


First Blood

by hanzo shimada (ubercharge)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Actual plot, Gay, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Denial, Slow Burn, rating will change and be updated later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8605861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubercharge/pseuds/hanzo%20shimada
Summary: McCree uncovers a Talon conspiracy on a mission. It wouldn't be the first time he's been forced to retreat from the action to lay low, but the stakes are now at an undeniable high and safety is no longer a guarantee. He's forced to leave Watchpoint: Gibraltar; it's all anyone can think of to keep him alive.Jack suggests that he takes Hanzo with him. McCree doesn't object.





	1. to be the one who breaks it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Francisxie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Francisxie/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of this fic is set on watchpoint gibralgebra but after _Weglaufen_ i’m not doing extreme map-accurate bs anymore so there are going to be rooms that don’t exist. don’t think too hard on it and you’ll be fine //

The desert was cold. During the day, bright sun warmed the reddish, orange-striped earth and stone. Rays of light poked through minimal cloud cover overhead. People would hold their hands over their heads to block the sun. Birds flew by. The night washed the red with blue, with darkness that clung to dusty nooks and crannies. There were shadows that lurked within the abandoned stores, the gas station, the old train cars. The smouldering wreck that still dangled over the broken railroad.

Jesse McCree lit himself a cigar and pretended he did not feel the chill in the air.

There was always more work to be done, it seemed, in the pursuit of bettering the world. But in truth, it was rare that he was occupied. He merely kept himself busy. Idle, pointless distractions were preferred to the alternative. And McCree would not be satisfied with himself if he was to remain sedentary.

He exhaled smoke into the night, greyish before it faded into invisibility, curling upwards. Acrid and somewhat vile, but he did not deny himself his worldly vices no matter their consequences. So he smoked, and did not listen to the good Dr. Angela Ziegler’s protests.

“Don’t worry about me, Angela,” he’d told her once, crushing the end of a cigar against some flat surface.

“I cannot help it,” she had replied. Fierce but caring; it was in her nature as a mother lion. Her irises held the same hue as the moody blue-grey sky.

“These things’re safer than they used to be, y’know.”

Angela would shake her head, and not speak further. McCree knew better than to press, to ask her to stop lecturing him on his health. When he was dead, the health concerns would stop.

He flexed his mechanical fingers and they glinted under the moon and stars. His lone companion was a perfect semicircle above him. The stars winked, and McCree replied in a quiet inhalation. Bright orange flared from the ashy tip of his cigar.

“It’s a simple task,” Winston had told him.

McCree had given up asking him in half-teasing jabs, not for the first time - “Who died and made you our leader?”

“De facto leader,” Winston had corrected, exasperated but not upset. He didn’t take to McCree’s sarcasm very well. “And you know the answer to that question.”

Somebody had to lead, after all.

Deadlock Gorge was an unpleasant place to be. McCree felt as if he was being watched. He didn’t have a single moment of ease. His neck hairs prickled no matter which direction he was facing, no matter what wall or cliffside he had to his back. He couldn’t sleep. Because maybe, just maybe, there were still members of the Gang around. He tapped his cigar. The ash fell.

McCree didn’t like thinking about the Deadlock Gang. They’d been a rough family to him. He’d belonged, and yet he hadn’t.

Angela was already asleep. McCree still couldn’t quite wrap his head around why she’d agreed to come. She had more important work, medical research and whatnot, back at the facility in Gibraltar. But here she was, sleeping on a hard floor in a decrepit town in the Southwestern states because she cared too much for her coworkers’ wellbeing for her own good. This was the kind of place tourists passed right by, not even giving a second look.

McCree would’ve liked for Genji to be present, but he was busy. It was a shame; they worked well together. McCree would’ve felt a lot safer with the cyborg watching his back.

“Sorry Jesse, but I cannot join your reconnaissance mission. My brother is coming to visit.”

McCree huffed out smoke. To hell with that. To hell with family. But McCree had Angela, and he had poster boy Jack Morrison. Both asleep. All of them armed.

McCree pulled his phone out. The cracks on the screen were illuminated, looked almost pretty in the dark. It was 3:46 in the morning. He’d purposefully ‘forgotten’ to wake Jack for his shift to keep watch. But McCree didn’t feel like sleeping, and wasn’t sure if he could even if he tried. It would be a long while before he tired. Maybe not even for another night. Until then, he could chainsmoke away the hours in solitude. Even with his cigars, it was still far from a relaxing affair. He couldn’t relax, couldn’t stop himself from constantly looking around.

Alert.

There were eyes in the darkness, he was sure of it. He tightened his grip on his revolver, mostly to reassure himself that yes, it was still firmly in his hand. The press of it against his palm, his digits, was calming. Just a bit.

He couldn’t stay awake forever, but he knew what would happen if he tried to sleep. He’d be lying there. His nerves would be jumping. His hands would be clammy, fingers twitching around his trusty six shooter. Ready to lift, to aim, to fire. Of course, using a gun wasn’t as fluid as he made it look in battle. But he was quick. Even if he was half-asleep... no, he wouldn’t get to that point. He’d be wide awake. Sleep would not come to him.

McCree wished he’d asked for someone else to take the Route 66 mission. He couldn’t, though. He knew the place better than any of the others, and it was his burden to bear now. He was here. He had a job to do, then he could leave.

They were scoping the place out. It didn’t seem as if any of the Deadlock Gang was still around, though they’d certainly left their mark, along with a few of their belongings. But nobody was around. The place was a ghost town now. McCree wasn’t sure if it’d be more unsettling to see his old gangmates, or if it was stranger to see the place empty when it had once been bustling with activity and chatter. He didn’t miss the old days. He knew better than to miss what he once had.

McCree stubbed out his cigar. Angela and Jack were still asleep; he hadn’t heard either of them stirring. He turned to comfort himself with the sight of their resting forms. They were both still snug in their sleeping bags. The three had chosen the upstairs of a bar to hole up in for the night. The room held a bunch of cardboard boxes. Some were empty, some were filled with supplies ranging from napkins to bottles of alcohol to poker chips. Forgotten things, things left behind when the locals packed up and left. McCree remembered the bar, and many nights shared. Laughing, drinking, talking. Gambling, sometimes. He almost smiled at the memories, but he didn’t.

3:52 AM.

He got a message.

It was from Genji - no surprise there. He opened it.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @GENJI & @MCCREE --**

**GENJI:** How are you doing

 **MCCREE:** alright

 **GENJI:** Of course youre awake

 **MCCREE:** yeah i cant catch a wink round here

 **GENJI:** You should try getting some rest jesse

 **MCCREE:** i know

 **GENJI:** Do you want to talk about it

 **MCCREE:** not really

McCree frowned. It was late, and he wasn’t big on deep conversation. There was a time and place for that. McCree didn’t think that was here and now.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @GENJI & @MCCREE --**

**GENJI:** Would you appreciate a distraction

Good ol’ reliable Genji.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @GENJI & @MCCREE --**

**MCCREE:** sure

 **GENJI:** Well my brothers coming im sure you are all very excited to meet him

 **MCCREE:** course we are

 **GENJI:** Even though he murdered me

McCree chuckled. Genji had been quiet at first, after his cyberization. Angela was the only one who could pull a conversation out of him. He was oftentimes brooding. Angry. After hearing of the Shimada brothers’ clash, McCree had assumed Genji was angry at his brother who had hurt him so severely. Maybe he was; Genji never told him. But it was more than that, McCree had learned from piecing things together. Genji was mad at his family for what they had done to his and his brother’s bond. McCree found it horribly sad. Genji didn’t like to talk about it.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @GENJI & @MCCREE --**

**MCCREE:** hey well youve said nice things about him

 **GENJI:** Yes i would like for us all to get along with my murderer

 **MCCREE:** cmon genji

 **GENJI:** Im just teasing

 **MCCREE:** i know

 **GENJI:** Anyway he will be here within the week so when you are done with your mission you will get to meet him

 **MCCREE:** think hell settle in ok?

 **GENJI:** No

 **MCCREE:** aw well why not

 **GENJI:** He is not good with people

 **MCCREE:** that aint a very nice thing to say bout your brother

 **GENJI:** It is the truth he is terrible with people

 **GENJI:** And talking to people

 **GENJI:** And talking in general

 **MCCREE:** ill get him to talk to me i swear it

 **GENJI:** Good luck with that

 **MCCREE:** thanks

 **MCCREE:** i think

Genji told McCree about Hanzo, and McCree read what he had to say. He had a myriad of entertaining anecdotes about himself and Hanzo swordfighting, training with various weapons, playing games together... McCree could only wonder what it was like to be Genji, to have someone so dear to him hurt him the way Hanzo did. And not for the first time, McCree wondered how Genji could possibly forgive Hanzo, no matter how much Genji loved him. Patience and kindness, perhaps. Genji had certainly changed since his Overwatch days. He’d found himself in Nepal, come to terms with himself. Embraced inner peace.

McCree gave a silent sigh, wondered if he could ask Genji to share some of that peace with him. He scanned the area around. Carefully. Still, he saw nobody glaring back at him from the shadows. It was just him and his dimly-lit phone screen.

‘howd you forgive him,’ McCree found himself typing out. He hesitated. He sent the message.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @GENJI & @MCCREE --**

**MCCREE:** howd you forgive him

Genji’s replies were usually quick if not instantaneous. But he seemed to be thinking about McCree’s question. He replied eventually:

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @GENJI & @MCCREE --**

**GENJI:** It was not easy

 _Well, no shit,_ McCree thought. He let Genji continue.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @GENJI & @MCCREE --**

**GENJI:** Sometimes i wanted to blame him for what he did but i had to understand he was limited in his options

 **GENJI:** I understand his remorse and feeling helpless

 **GENJI:** I think in another universe we couldve run from what happened

 **GENJI:** But perhaps it was the last fight we had that changed that possibility and ended his patience on the matter for good

 **GENJI:** I was a complete brat and he was

 **GENJI:** Well

 **GENJI:** He was a complete bastard

 **GENJI:** We were both sick and tired

 **GENJI:** But even though i was hurt and confused and angry and sad i could not bring myself to fight back

 **GENJI:** I let him take out his anger on me and while i felt it was unfair i understood

 **GENJI:** At times i blamed him

 **GENJI:** At times i blamed myself

 **GENJI:** At times i did not blame either of us but rather our clan and the elders of our clan

 **GENJI:** At times i just

 **GENJI:** I missed him

 **GENJI:** A lot

 **GENJI:** For a while i thought many different things

 **GENJI:** But i think that was the shock from the event and from almost dying and from being brought back to life as a cyborg

A long pause.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @GENJI & @MCCREE --**

**GENJI:** He certainly blamed himself and was more angry with himself than anyone else

 **GENJI:** I would have forgiven him even if he was not sorry for his actions

McCree yawned before asking:

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @GENJI & @MCCREE --**

**MCCREE:** why

And when he read Genji’s reply, he could almost see the smile on the man’s scarred face.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @GENJI & @MCCREE --**

**GENJI:** Because he is my brother

 **GENJI:** Not because he is family but because he is who he is

 **GENJI:** I love him and care for him deeply

 **GENJI:** Perhaps you will one day understand this

McCree scoffed.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @GENJI & @MCCREE --**

**MCCREE:** i aint much for carin bout others yknow

 **GENJI:** Sure jesse

 **GENJI:** i know i wouldnt forgive someone who tried to kill me if it was not him

 **GENJI:** The circumstances of what happened between hanzo and i are very specific to us

          **GENJI:** I doubt you will ever have to experience anything similar

 **MCCREE:** yeah fair enough

 **GENJI:** Maybe one day you will find yourself forgiving someone who has hurt you very much

 **MCCREE:** i dunno about that genji but hey im actually kinda tired now

 **GENJI:** Im glad my twenty stories have finally brought you to the point of wanting to sleep

 **MCCREE:** ill go wake jack for his shift thanks for takin the time to talk to me

 **GENJI:** Good night jesse

 **MCCREE:** gnight

McCree stretched and yawned. Out of all the things to tire him out... Genji’s storytelling. McCree felt that he wouldn’t even remember most of the colourful tales that Genji had been kind enough to grace him with come morning, though they certainly weaved a rich tapestry. And it helped him understand Genji a little better. Maybe now he could look forward to meeting up with Genji again, and meeting his brother. He, along with Jack and Angela, had been in the area around Deadlock Gorge for about a week. Funnily enough, he was starting to miss the others.

McCree had gotten used to vigilantism and working solo. He left Blackwatch when the drama started to unfold. He didn’t like thinking about it for too long. A lot of what happened in those days was a confusing blur. He was constantly tense, always stressed. Oftentimes, talking to members of Overwatch and even fellow members of Blackwatch had him feeling like he was walking a tightrope or trying to defuse a bomb. You could trust and you could talk, but carefully. Carefully. Allegiances and groups had been carved out, some less obvious than others.

Gabriel had been worried, though he didn’t show it.

Sometimes it had seemed as if he’d wanted McCree to leave on his own volition. Sometimes it had seemed that he’d rather McCree stayed. But he was always changing his mind. McCree got tired of listening to him. It was for the best that he left, was what he told himself. He missed Gabriel. They didn’t always get along, and the man could be tough, but he was reliable and knowledgeable and insurmountable. McCree had trusted him. He’d put his safety in Gabriel’s hands over and over again, and come out stronger for it.

He clutched at his mechanical arm, feeling its hard, unyielding surface through his glove. The mission he’d lost his arm... McCree rarely saw Gabriel lose his cool. But he remembered the anger on his captain’s face, in his voice. He remembered the guilt and the frustration. He remembered the pain, too. He couldn’t forget.

He still had nightmares about it.

They weren’t always the same. There were nights when he dreamed of his arm being shot, at himself being shot because sure as hell, he’d experienced the ripping pain of bullets before. There were nights his arm was blown off by an explosive. Nights when it was burnt off. And, very rarely, if his subconscious was feeling particularly cruel, nights when he was held down and his arm was torn off bit by bit.

McCree shuddered. The cold was starting to bite. He was tired. He looked around again. And he saw nobody. There wasn’t even a breeze to stir up a bit of dust. It was time to go to bed. They’d be departing in the morning.

He planted his gloved hand on Jack’s shoulder, shook him.

“Up and at ‘em, partner. It’s your watch shift.”

 

McCree slept on the ride back to the facility. After a while of laying down, the feeling of an imminent stab to the back faded. Jack and Angela’s quiet conversation filled the air, and McCree managed to get some actual rest. It was a lot better than sleeping well past midnight, and drifting in and out of consciousness every hour or so like he did at Route 66. He pulled his serape tight around himself in a warm red cocoon, and tried to ignore how vulnerable he felt. But he trusted Jack and Angela. He trusted them. He had to.

He didn’t have much choice now, anyway. He could’ve done worse in the way of teammates. Sure, neither Jack nor Angela understood him like Blackwatch did, like Gabriel did. But they were here. They cared. They’d watch over him. They were in a ship flying over the ocean, and McCree was still worried about being attacked.

It took a while to rein in his thoughts and quiet them. He only managed because his nights of restlessness had taken their toll on him. So maybe at his age, missing too much sleep for a whole week wasn’t the best idea. He couldn’t destroy his sleeping schedule the way he used to. Or maybe it was because he’d done so poorly with sleep in his past, he had to be more mindful of his sleeping habits now.

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter to his fears. If he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t sleep. If nightmares woke him up, what could he do about it? The shadows would jump, his heart would beat sickeningly hard, he’d be gripping his sleeping bag like his life depended on it, and he’d be looking around in the dark. Reaching for his gun. Waiting to be pounced on.

It was hours before they landed. McCree was woken by Angela’s hand on his arm, smacking him hard.

“I tried to shake you awake, but you did not respond,” she said, smiling at McCree’s indignance. “You were very much asleep. It’s time to return to the facility.”

McCree got up and followed her out of the ship.

He wanted to take a shower. A week of mucking around in the desert, and his clothes were all dirty. There was that annoying reddish dust he’d have to clean out of his mechanical arm. It had been a smaller issue when both his arms were intact, but the intricacies of a metal prosthetic needed tending to. He and his partners on the trip hadn’t risked a shower because of their very small group size. A trio diminished was hardly enough to work with. If one or two were ambushed, then that was it. The mission was a quick in and out. A success, McCree supposed, seeing as there was zero sign of the Deadlock Gang. Or any people, for that matter. It had been eerie, but McCree hadn’t been surprised. There was no reason for anyone to stick around. Not after the Blackwatch sting operation.

So McCree was a mess. He glanced over, seeing the weariness on Angela’s face. Jack had his mask and visor on. McCree guessed he was tired, too. They weren’t in the best shape, but they were alive, and that alone was its own blessing. He’d been with Deadlock and Blackwatch for too long. Seen too much death. Been through too much.

“If you need me, I will be in my office,” Angela said before leaving with a parting wave.

“Later, Angela.”

“I’m going to get some dinner,” Jack said, leaving as well.

“Jesse, are you back already?”

McCree looked up. It was Genji, with someone unfamiliar in tow. Of course, that could only be one person.

“Hey, Genji,” he greeted. “Yeah, mission’s over. Spec we’ll be back at the Gorge soon enough, but maybe I can get some rest in the meantime.” A polite pause. “This your brother?”

“Yes, this is Hanzo. You have heard of him. Hanzo, this is Jesse McCree. He’s a...” Genji trailed off, made a hand gesture. “...Gunslinger.”

McCree raised an eyebrow. A challenge. He’d been expecting more of an insult, but if it wasn’t going to come, then it was better to be grateful than to complain. And he really wasn’t going to complain, because frankly, Genji’s brother was very, very attractive.

McCree tipped his hat. “Howdy,” he said.

“Hello,” Hanzo said, with a look of mild disdain on his face.

“I trust that you two will acquaint yourselves with each other,” Genji said.

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” McCree said with a smile.

Hanzo peered at him. McCree tried not to stare at his chest.

“Nice tattoo,” he said.

Damn it.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said. McCree couldn’t tell if the thanks was sarcastic or not; Hanzo’s tone didn’t betray his thoughts, whatever those thoughts were.

“[Three words out and you have not even threatened to kill him yet? I am amazed at your progress as a person, brother,]” Genji said in Japanese.

Hanzo shot him a look, and Genji laughed.

“[Don’t give me that look. Can you blame me for joking around? You’re not even making an effort,]” Genji said.

“[Talking to any of these people _is_ making an effort, you brat,]” Hanzo snapped.

“[At least try being nice to the cowboy. You know these Westerners and their... personalities.]”

McCree swore Hanzo’s glare could cut through metal, but Genji was undeterred by his brother’s irritation. In fact, it sounded like he was goading Hanzo. They spoke too quickly for McCree to keep up. He didn’t care; he was still staring. The tattoo was amazing. Gorgeous, really. Over his chest and around his arm snaked a dragon over storm clouds. And Hanzo himself... If McCree was straight, this man would have still had him tongue-tied. He was all sharp angles and brooding. If he was going to be completely honest, McCree wasn’t sure what to make of the ‘almost killed Genji’ aspect, but at the moment, he was content to take in the view.

McCree offered his mechanical hand because Hanzo looked like he wanted to crush something. The handshake was firm. McCree was grateful he didn’t offer his other hand.

“My name is Hanzo Shimada. I am Genji’s older brother. I have been informed that we may be working together. It is nice to meet you.”

McCree opened his mouth, but no words came out. He shut it, and tried again:

“Uh... name’s Jesse McCree. Well, Genji just told you that. I’ve got a six shooter and deadly aim. Shootin’ things is what I do.”

“[Yes!]” Genji exclaimed. “You both have good aim. So much in common. Now we are friends. Good job. Now if you will excuse us, Jesse, we have to go eat.”

McCree nodded.

“I’ll be seein’ y’all.”

“See you later,” Genji said.

Hanzo didn’t say anything, but he gave McCree an inquisitive look before following his brother to the mess hall. Or maybe it was just a look, and McCree was reading too far into it. He swallowed hard, and hoped he’d get to work with Hanzo on his next mission.

 

“Excited for some rest?” Lena asked.

McCree had come straight to the mess from the showers. His hair was dripping water onto the towel slung around his shoulders, but that was better than getting the floors wet. The others would get bent out of shape and pull out the wet floor sign to shame him. At least, Gabriel had never appreciated it. There were some fancy ships they’d lived on for a time during long missions that were self-cleaning with floors you could eat off of, but the Watchpoint wasn’t the same. McCree got used to the shoulder towel because he never bothered with blow-drying his hair.

“Yeah,” he replied, stabbing at his chicken. “Been a long week.”

Lena had returned from her mission with Reinhardt a few days ago. She hated having to leave Winston behind after they’d been apart from each other for so long. She’d really missed having him around, but now that Overwatch was back together, albeit in secret, they got to hang out and strategize again. Just like the old days, minus ninety-nine percent of Overwatch agents. McCree tried not to feel bitter about it, but sometimes it was hard. At least Winston ran the place well when Jack wasn’t around. McCree would never say it to Jack’s face, but he felt Winston did a better job as their leader. Or de facto leader - whatever it really was at the end of the day. He was less strict.

“So did you find anyone, love?”

McCree shook his head. “It was like visitin’ a ghost town. Not a soul to be seen for miles around, and ain’t the foggiest clue why that is. Spec everyone cleared out years ago.”

Lena nodded, looked thoughtful. “‘Cause of Gabe?” she asked.

“Probably.” McCree shoved more chicken into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to talk.

“Miss him?” Lena asked, a little quieter now. More sympathetic.

McCree didn’t reply, wasn’t sure he could muster up a reply. He was about to excuse himself when he was interrupted, much to his gratefulness.

“Yo.”

“Hey, Genji,” Lena said, smiling wide. “And... Hanzo, right?”

“Greetings,” Hanzo said.

“Didn’t y’all already eat?” McCree asked.

“Yes. Hanzo is with me because I don’t trust him not to get lost,” Genji said.

Lena giggled and McCree tried not to laugh, though that was fair; the facility was large and it wouldn’t be difficult to get lost.

“I’ll give you a tour of the place sometime,” McCree said.

“That is not necessary,” Hanzo said.

Genji ignored the exchange. “Winston is asking for you,” he said.

McCree cursed. “Jack forget to give him the mission breakdown or what?” he asked, giving an annoyed sigh.

“He said it would make more sense to hear it from you.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger, love,” Lena added.

“Alright, I’m just about finished here anyway,” McCree said before wolfing down the rest of his meal and tapping at the table interface to clear his tray.

“[Is it normal for him to eat like that?]” Hanzo asked.

“[Oh yes, definitely,]” Genji replied, laughing at the disgusted look on his brother’s face.

Lost, McCree exchanged a confused glance with Lena. He didn’t stick around to ask for an English translation. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could go to bed and get a decent night’s sleep for the first time in a week. He missed getting to sleep soundly, and thank the lord that he felt safe enough in the Watchpoint to sleep in it.

He crossed the facility and headed up to where Winston worked with his septuple monitor setup. Winston was watching the news and eating ramen. Whatever was happening looked serious, or at least interesting enough for Winston not to turn around at McCree’s approach. He knocked the wall.

“Genji told me you called? Could’ve texted me.”

Winston was startled out of his reverie. He turned, and waved McCree in.

“I left my phone in my room. Sorry to bother you,” he said.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Well, somebody has to keep track of the goings-on around here. I’ve been working on it, but, uh... sometimes there’s a lot to worry about, sometimes there’s nothing. Overwatch being so much smaller, I mean.” Winston shook his head. “Anyway, I need the information from your mission.”

“Right,” McCree said, fiddling with the metal plating of his arm. “Well, we were in New Mexico for a week. Eight days, actually. Not too long a flight from here. Spent a few days scanning the area ‘round Deadlock Gorge before moving in. I gave Angela and Jack a tour of the place. We didn’t find anyone.”

Winston frowned as he typed out McCree’s words. “Nobody? Not a single person?” he asked.

“Nope,” McCree confirmed. “Not for ‘bout a whole mile ‘round the place. Dunno why. It was kinda creepy, if I may be honest here.”

“Yes, I can see why that would be the case.”

“We moved around, looked around everyday. And believe me, I know where people would be hiding if they wanted to stay hidden. But there weren’t any people, and lord knows why.”

“How odd,” Winston muttered.

“Yeah, well, mission success, right?”

“Better a mystery than a failure,” Winston replied, but he didn’t sound very convinced. In fact, it sounded like he was thinking the opposite.

“Hey, we went to learn some stuff and we found out what we needed to know. Ain’t that good enough for now?”

“For now. Any chance of people coming back?”

“Uh, spec they could. Not sure why they’d want to. Ain’t anything valuable there. Not even in the ol’ drug stash, heh. Weren’t any signs of people. There was dust everywhere, and it sure looked like everyone cleared out a long time ago.”

Winston didn’t reply, just continued typing.

“So, uh... now what?”

“Now? Well, I believe you’ve earned yourself a break. Take the time to relax, I guess.”

“I know I have a mission again soon, Winston. Been on that team for a while.”

“Yes, but you have two weeks to prepare.”

“Ain’t that a relief.”

Winston nodded. “It’s a bit of a tricky one, so keep that in mind,” he said.

McCree looked out the window. The sun was melting into the ocean, its rays dimming in the evening sky. He thought about the desert chill, and shivered involuntarily.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I ain’t takin’ any of this work lightly, y’know.”

“I would hope not. You’re... dismissed.”

McCree gave a lopsided smile and tipped his hat before departing.

He’d missed his room. He remembered when Genji and Lena were trainees, having to sleep in the basement with a bunch of others. When he passed by the room for whatever reason, he was sure to give the posters on the walls a little pat. He’d never asked Genji why there were posters of him up, but maybe he’d inspired the other recruits. McCree was grateful he could have his own room now. Sure, Overwatch was a lot smaller than in its glory days, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t help the world out.

McCree pressed his hand to the palm scanner and opened the door. Refuge. The light turned on to greet him, and the door slid shut. He mussed his hair with the towel, sure that he’d gotten most of the water out, and tossed it onto the bed. Somebody had cleared the clothing piles on his floor during his absence. There were stacks of clean clothes on his bed, and he went to put them back into his dresser, humming as he did so.

Two weeks of rest. That was really too much to ask for. The idle time would start to drive him up the wall, but he could practice at the shooting range. That was something he’d missed when he was scoping out Route 66. When he and the others weren’t walking around, he’d spent his pockets of free time watching cat videos on his phone. That helped a little. McCree frowned. He wouldn’t be able to do the same for the next mission. Like Winston said, it was going to be a bit of a tricky affair.

He’d be flying back to America, which he supposed was something to be grateful for. It’d be just like the red dusty home he’d adored so much. McCree huffed out loud. What a sorry excuse for a home that had been. Watchpoint: Grand Mesa in Colorado had been used primarily for weapons development, along with the development of a myriad of other technology. It was currently being overseen by Helix Security International, but Jack had broken in a while ago to steal a pulse rifle, the gun he was currently using. He’d mentioned that the facility had been kept running, and there was still weapons development going on. Hence, the pulse rifle.

“So... you want us to break in again?” McCree had asked at the briefing.

“Yes,” Jack had replied. “I know it sounds bad.”

“No shit.”

“It’s hard to explain, but the place is different now. It was different when I broke in. I’ve been to Grand Mesa in the past, when Overwatch was still operating. There was something about it last time...” Jack shook his head.

He'd looked perturbed, and McCree hadn't been sure why. He'd been so vague with his explanation.

Genji had been toying with a balisong, a gift he’d been sent that he’d taken delight in learning to flip and do tricks with. The metal click-clacking had filled the room.

“So,” he'd said, snapping the butterfly knife shut before letting it dance over his fingers again. “You want to break in to investigate?”

“That’s the gist of it. I’m worried about Helix. There was something not quite right about the guards who fought me. I'm not saying they were weak or let me go easy or anything like that. Just... something off.”

Genji had nodded, but McCree hadn't understood. Then Ana had spoken up:

“What do you think we’ll find?”

Jack had smiled in response, but it was not a joyful smile.

“That’s the thing. I have no idea.”

McCree had been haunted by that eerie smile for a week straight. He thought about it now and it gave him shivers. It wasn’t like Jack to smile like that, especially not during a strategy meeting. Sure, he joked around the mess and during game night with everyone else, but McCree had gotten so used to his more serious demeanour as Soldier: 76. And it wasn’t like him not to have a clue about what they were walking into for the Grand Mesa mission. But it reminded McCree of the Blackwatch days, where missions were of higher obscurity than those of Overwatch. Punching some teeth in at Mesa would help him feel better, if he could find the opportunity.

McCree picked his hat up from the bedside table, where he’d set it down prior to his much-desired shower. He patted the surface with his bare hand. Some of the desert’s reddish dust was still clinging to the hat. He rubbed at the metal emblem with his thumb, then the bullets along the band. He was sick of seeing that red dust. He’d have to wash the hat soon.

His phone went off. It was the Overwatch chat client. Winston said that this program was more secure than regular chat clients, so everyone had to use it for messaging each other. McCree saw that Ana had sent him a direct message. He replied, not wanting to keep her waiting.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @ANA & @MCCREE --**

**ANA:** hey

 **MCCREE:** evening maam

 **ANA:** ready for next mission

 **MCCREE:** course i am

 **MCCREE:** weve been preppin for over a month

 **MCCREE:** why wouldnt i be ready

 **ANA:** i know your track record

 **MCCREE:** still believe gabriels years-old slander bout me?

 **ANA:** nah

 **ANA:** maybe a bit

 **ANA:** its been awhile since ive been out on an ow mission can you blame me for worrying

 **ANA:** and the last one didnt exactly go well

 **MCCREE:** spec thats fair

 **ANA:** anyway

 **ANA:** who else did you want on the team

 **MCCREE:** what

 **MCCREE:** i thought genji and jack were comin with us

 **ANA:** change of plans

 **ANA:** they been roped into the talon investigation with rein torb and angela

 **MCCREE:** why

 **ANA:** they need their skills or whatever

 **ANA:** theyre getting closer on their end but were only chasing a lead on something that might be completely unrelated to anything important

 **ANA:** and they trust us to handle mesa

 **MCCREE:** well damn

 **MCCREE:** so we need at least one other person

 **ANA:** we dont NEED another person

 **ANA:** itd just be stupid not to have at least one other person

 **ANA:** not winston though

 **ANA:** hes running the base

 **ANA:** were busy nowadays with so few members

 **ANA:** cant always have first pick of teammates

 **MCCREE:** yeah

McCree groaned in disappointment. He’d been counting on Genji’s stealth abilities to help them through the mission. And without Jack, the only person who’d been to Watchpoint: Grand Mesa in person, he was starting to wonder what the point was. Did Jack seriously still expect them to go?

Jack had presented them a complete holographic map of the facility to study. He’d talked about the Helix guards, how he’d fought and defeated them. He’d been a valuable resource for the mission, and Genji had been a valuable asset. Now what were they to do? He wondered if Ana was thinking the same. No, of course not. She wasn’t this easily deterred.

An idea.

McCree picked up his phone and started typing.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @ANA & @MCCREE --**

**MCCREE:** what about genjis brother

He bit his knuckle, a rare nervous gesture. Okay, so the sight of a man whom he’d only just met gave him butterflies. But they also needed someone stealthy for the mission, and he could think of no better candidate than Hanzo. From what Genji had told McCree about his older brother, the two had a similar skill set, and Hanzo had been working as a mercenary since he left Japan. Considering Genji’s combat prowess, that was very reassuring. McCree saw no reason to underestimate him. He could ignore the butterflies because this was a purely strategic suggestion.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @ANA & @MCCREE --**

**ANA:** yeah thatll work

 **ANA:** think hell join

 **MCCREE:** if genji tells him to im sure hell be agreeable

 **ANA:** true

 **ANA:** ok go ask him

 **MCCREE:** what

 **MCCREE:** now??

 **ANA:** no better time than the present

 **MCCREE:** but its already midnight

 **ANA:** its dark high noon

 **ANA:** go talk to him

 **MCCREE:** what if hes asleep

 **ANA:** eh youll find a solution

 **ANA:** night

Ana went offline before McCree could reply with his indignance in full force.

“Damn it, Ana,” he muttered.

It wasn’t as if he was sleep-deprived. It wasn’t as if he really needed the rest. Oh well. Either one of them would have to ask sooner or later. Asking sooner would at least give Hanzo more time to mull it over and, if he said yes, to prepare. Check out the holo-map and whatnot.

McCree ruffled his hair with the towel again. His hair looked like a spiky, half-wet mess, but he wasn’t going to dry it before looking for Hanzo. Besides, the hat covered it. He was asking the man to join a dangerous mission, not out on a date. In person would be more considerate than messaging him in the chat client.

Now, where to?

McCree headed back to the mess hall, but it was almost empty at this late hour. Reinhardt was having dinner, and McCree said hello before leaving. He was playing Bejeweled and, by the looks of the semi-transparent screen projection, it was getting intense. McCree didn’t want to bother him, nor did he have the time to do so.

He checked the common room, only to find Fareeha and Angela passed out on the couch. Torbjörn was sitting on the armchair and tapping at holo-diagrams. Lena was flipping channels on TV, looking bored. It was weird seeing so many people awake, but Overwatch agents were never all that good at going to bed on time, anyway.

Jack and Mei were playing an very serious-looking game of poker in the rec room. Neither looked up when McCree poked his head in.

The gym was empty - not a huge surprise. It was pretty late, and most of the people who worked out regularly did it in the morning.

He finally found both Shimada brothers in the shooting range. Both were practicing their archery in the shooting simulation. Judging by the scores on the walls and the piles of dead virtual birds, they’d been there for a while. But their movements, while swift, weren’t hurried. Was this how they bonded with each other?

“Hey,” he said.

Genji was the first to notice him. He removed his headset and gloves, placing them back on the dashboard. McCree never understood why Genji used the virtual reality equipment when he could plug himself into the shooting simulator, but he figured it would be rude to ask.

“Good evening, Jesse,” he greeted. “Did you come to practice? It’s a bit late.”

“Uh, no,” McCree said.

Hanzo noticed Genji had stopped, and removed his headset and gloves as well. McCree cleared his throat.

“Came to talk. To your brother, actually.”

Genji turned to Hanzo, who was looking at McCree. He faced Genji, said something in quiet Japanese, and nodded to McCree.

“What is it?” Hanzo asked, though the tone of his voice hardly suggested he was asking a question.

McCree was flustered. He’d been intending to speak to Hanzo alone, but it should be reassuring to have Genji here, right? As if this would be different without Genji’s presence. He wasn’t sure what to do with Hanzo’s piercing glare on him. It made his skin prickle. Damn it, he was not going to let it show.

“Genji and Jack can’t make the mission to Watchpoint: Grand Mesa. Ana and I wanted to invite you to come in their place.”

Hanzo squinted at him. “Watchpoint... Grand Mesa? What is the mission?”

“Infiltration,” Genji supplied. “You should go, anija. I apologize that I will not be attending. It was my intention, but you know how our schedules are right now.”

“Yeah, it’s alright,” McCree said. “Ain’t your fault.”

“[What should I expect?]” Hanzo asked Genji.

“[We aren’t sure. Jack is the only one who has been to Grand Mesa, and the one who called the mission, but even he is unsure what will be discovered on the mission. This makes it very dangerous. There will be armed guards, and indoors... who knows? I do not wish to be pessimistic, but injury and death are not off the table, so to speak.]”

“Hm,” Hanzo said. He turned to McCree. “I will join you.”

McCree gave a sigh of relief. “Alright, that’s good to hear. I’ll invite you to the channel. Er, the chat’s got a channel for Grand Mesa, and we’ll be discussing stuff in there, too.”

“Ah, yes. The chat,” Hanzo said, making a face.

Genji elbowed him. “[Don’t be rude, brother. I know you have the program in your phone. You cannot avoid talking to the others forever.]”

“[I know,]” Hanzo said, smacking Genji’s arm away. He turned back to McCree. “I will be present.”

“Good to hear,” McCree said. He smiled because he wasn’t really sure what else to do.

Hanzo did not smile back, but Genji seemed like he was, under the mask. McCree wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or a mocking gesture, even though he couldn’t see it. He didn’t have anything else to say, nor did he feel like making more conversation. Maybe another time, but not now. This was a business trip. He was tired. He’d gotten his excuse to look at Hanzo’s face some more. It was time to go.

“I’ll see y’all in the morn. Gonna hit the hay.”

“Sleep well, Jesse,” Genji said, sliding the gloves back onto his cyborg hands.

“Good night,” Hanzo added, doing the same.

McCree tipped his hat to them and left. As he went, he could hear the virtual chirps and assorted noises of successful archery. He’d never bothered trying archer’s weapons in the shooting simulation. Instead, he’d practiced with a custom revolver adjusted to behave like his own gun, and with some of the other guns that were also available to the agents outside of the simulation. Not because he cared much for them, but because it was practical. After Jack had scanned his pulse rifle into the system, McCree had practiced with it, too. Maybe he’d pick up the bow sometime. He liked watching the Shimada brothers work at it. The weapon was graceful in their hands.

McCree unlocked his room, set his hat back down to its usual spot on top of his dresser. He removed his arm. It wasn’t something he bothered to do every night. Most of the time, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. There were times he fell asleep in the commons or rec room or in other odd places, if he’d reached the point of exhaustion in which the fear of leaving himself vulnerable was not strong enough to keep him awake. But some nights, he was kept up by his anxiety. His arm would start to feel heavier as he remembered Deadlock and Blackwatch. The skin at the end of the stump would start to itch and the mechanical arm would feel out of place. He had to remove it sometimes.

It could be a matter of comfort, but it could also be a matter of sanity.

He couldn’t always tell the difference. It didn’t always change a lot, either way.

The fingers on his right hand played against the air, and he imagined what it would be like to wield a bow. He couldn’t; he’d never done it before. Genji had talked about it once or twice. McCree stared at the ceiling for a while, tracing with his eyes the criss-crossing lines.

After what felt like hours, he said, “Lights out.” The lights turned off.

McCree didn’t shut his eyes for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \\\ i probably would've put off posting this until i finished ch.3 but francis was like 'you should post it' so i'm gonna post it
> 
> for IBD readers: enjoy the chat logs, you can probably know who's talkin without even looking at names


	2. to be the one for whom blood spills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i probably would've put off posting this until i finished ch.4 but i remembered when francis was like 'you should post it' for ch.1 so i'm gonna post it //

It was Hanzo Shimada who took McCree’s thoughts in the morning. He didn’t make a habit of rising early. What often happened was that he woke up early, and, upon noticing the time, immediately went back to sleep. His heart was pounding and he was drenched in sweat. He straightened out his train of thought, tried to remember what it was that had him in such a harried state.

It had to be the dreams; he could think of no other explanation. In the darkness and solitude of his bedroom, he remembered. It came to him bit by bit, and there were foggy spots that may not be filled, but he remembered the rest as he held onto the feelings.

For support, he clutched his mechanical arm. It had been laying next to his pillow, and touching its coolness was reassuring. He went over its grooves and familiar patterns, and sank himself back into his thoughts.

There was the desert, vast and harsh as ever. It was dark. The sky was black, star-illumined, and the red had been sucked out of the earth. It looked blue in the night. The striped cliffs of Deadlock Gorge were there, but without the bar, the trains, the stores, the places that had given people a reason to stick around. Instead, there was just the road. No vehicles in either direction. All around the pavement was the hard-packed red earth with its dust and rocks.

McCree could place himself in the dream. He was standing on the road. And with him, right at his side, was Hanzo. His golden scarf - it was greyish now, and pale like the moon - was fluttering in the breeze. He had an unhappy look on his face. He held his bow, and in it, an arrow was already nocked. His quiver was slung over his shoulder.

This, McCree remembered with odd clarity: the quiver was empty.

He’d had his gun in his hand, a fairly common detail in his dreams. He wasn’t sure how many bullets he had left in it, nor on his person. The revolver could’ve been full, and he might’ve had spare ammo to boot. It might’ve been empty, or empty save a single shot like Hanzo’s bow and arrow.

The dream was very cold, befitting the desert night. Neither he nor Hanzo shivered. They stood together. Everything was tense.

McCree had spoken, though for what reason, he could not say.

“We have to go now.”

Without replying, without speaking a word, without showing a gesture, Hanzo agreed. McCree knew it, because it was his dream, so of course he knew it. They made eye contact. Hanzo’s eyes glinted - a flash of surreal gold within brown in the darkness, so dark his irises almost appeared black.

In unison, they broke off into a tireless run. It could go on as long as McCree willed it, in his dream. There was no tiring. But there was a sense of purpose, a sense of urgency. The wind whipped them, sliced at their skin.

McCree didn’t remember much beyond that. They stopped, panting despite their lack of tiredness. It was artificial, of course. His subconscious willed it so, made it so that the dream was still realistic in a way. They stood close together. The desert was silent, save the wind.

And McCree remembered one more thing with more detail than everything else. Hanzo had looked up at him, gaze piercing as McCree remembered it from first meeting him yesterday. Within them, there was a flash of panic. He’d only known Hanzo for a day, and fear was certainly not an emotion he’d seen on the man’s face at any point. But he saw it in his dream, because he knew what fear in a person’s eyes looked like. Hanzo had not been looking at McCree. He'd been looking past him.

He’d said, “Run.”

McCree had spun around only to be met with coagulating darkness. Stars flew from his vision and faded into black before he'd woken with a start. And his heartbeat steadied during his recollection. The danger was gone, though he had no idea what it could’ve been, but he was all the more unsettled because of it.

He wished he knew Hanzo better. He seemed a smart enough man, and McCree would’ve liked to tell him about the dream under friendlier circumstances. As things stood, he wasn’t sure if Hanzo would care. It was unlikely he’d have much to say in response, anyway. McCree could tell Genji. Would that be weird?

_Hey, Genji. You’ll never guess who I dreamed of last night... It was your brother! What? Hey, I don’t have a crush on him, we just met. Dreaming about him doesn’t mean I like him._

He could keep it to himself. In any case, he doubted talking about it would help him feel better. It wasn’t a pleasant dream, which was lamentable. McCree could think of better dreams to have that involved Genji’s handsome brother, but instead, he got... that. It didn’t bode well. Even if it was just a dream, he wasn’t sure how he’d face Hanzo now.

They’d make eye contact sooner or later, maybe during conversation, and McCree would remember his eyes in the freezing cold desert night. How they’d gleamed with starlight, and how they’d widened with fear over a threat McCree never got to see.

He checked his phone. 5:04 AM. He needed more sleep than he’d gotten, so he willed himself to shut his eyes again. Sleep would come. It had to.

 

He woke up again at 11:26. While brushing his teeth, he remembered the dream he had, and it unnerved him deeply. In the light of day, though, it mattered less than it had in the early morning. McCree felt like he could deal with it, and deal with himself. No matter the reason he dreamt of something so strange. To worry seemed an overreaction now.

He finished his morning preen and headed to the mess hall for brunch. Food wouldn’t let him down. The menu always had a treat or two for him to enjoy. And of course, he found the Shimada whom he’d been half-hoping to avoid.

Hanzo was having a conversation with Angela. He had a bowl of that macaroni Angela adored with the potatoes and bacon, but Angela didn’t have any food in front of her. She’d probably eaten already. By the looks of it, she was doing most if not all of the talking. But he was listening, nodding. Whatever the subject was, it sounded serious. McCree didn’t really care for heavy discussion, and was tempted to leave. Then Angela looked up, saw him, smiled, and waved him over.

Damn it.

“Good morning, Jesse.”

“Mornin’ Angela. Hanzo.”

Hanzo gave him a nod.

McCree took a seat across from Angela and tapped in his order onto the menu, hardly needing to look down to do it. He’d gotten used to its interface and could request his favourite meals with ease. Something simple would be good enough, and he couldn’t go wrong with eggs, hash browns, bacon, and a glass of orange juice. Angela didn’t like liquor at the table, and after many Overwatch mishaps, nobody could blame her. He kept alcohol off the order.

“Did you sleep well?”

McCree managed an easy smile, but he felt a little sick and did not glance over at Hanzo.

“Heck of a lot better than we did in the desert, that’s for sure.”

“Yes, well, I have found it easier to sleep when not under the threat of being ambushed.”

“Aw, c’mon, Angie. You know I’m a great watch.”

“Of course,” Angela replied in that familiar teasing tone of hers.

Neither she nor McCree mentioned that McCree wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if he’d tried. It went unsaid.

McCree’s section of table lowered and presented him with his breakfast. Great. He could eat and avoid talking. Maybe then he could enjoy the light of day and, with a clean serape draped around him, pretend he did not feel the chill of the night. The chill of the desert, which could be so cold and so cruel.

He made the mistake of looking at Hanzo, who, for whatever inexplicable reason, was looking back at him. The brief moment of eye contact made McCree choke, and Hanzo’s gaze flitted away. It had happened so quickly McCree wasn’t sure if he’d seen it at all. But he knew he did. There was no forgetting those pretty eyes trained on him, scrutinizing him. Even for a second.

McCree almost hit his nose on the rim of his glass as he went to take a sip, needing to wash down the bit of egg stuck in his throat. Angela said something quiet to Hanzo that McCree didn’t register. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He wished he’d seen what he and Hanzo had been running from in his dream. It was bothering him immensely.

“McCree asked me,” Hanzo said.

“What?” McCree asked.

Hanzo and Angela turned to him, and McCree felt slapped by their pointed looks sent his direction. They weren’t looking at him pointedly, but everything had him on edge right now and he couldn’t really help it. He was just a man trying to eat his breakfast, that was all. He didn’t want these nonexistent dream-induced worries plaguing him over his meal.

“For the mission,” Angela said.

“You asked me to join,” Hanzo said.

“Oh... yeah, I did. Jack and Genji couldn’t come, and we needed another member. I wanted someone stealthy. Thought you’d fit the bill.”

“Well Hanzo, you must share skills with your brother,” Angela said.

“Of course. We were trained together and I have not stopped training.”

Angela asked a question, and Hanzo started to talk, at length, about the katanas he and Genji had used when they were younger. It took all of McCree’s willpower not to think that Hanzo was using a euphemism, because that would be inappropriate. But his self-control was shaky in the morning, and he couldn’t help but smile.

Angela’s phone went off, and she muttered something to herself.

“It appears that my services are needed. I will see both of you later,” she said.

“Good bye.”

“See you, Angela.”

Hanzo turned to McCree now.

“What is so funny?” he asked.

“What?”

McCree felt like Hanzo might’ve narrowed his eyes, had his expression not already been mildly derisive in accordance with his words.

“You are smiling.”

“Can’t a fella smile at the table? Maybe my breakfast is real good.”

Hanzo was silent, and McCree looked down to finish his meal. In his chest, he still felt that tension. He could feel the fear, very real, that had gripped him so painfully. It was just a dream, though. It couldn’t possibly bother him this much.

Yeah, right.

But it was better than dreaming of his arm being torn off slowly. The nightmares would persist, regardless of their subject. The best McCree could do was keep up and not let them pull him under.

He chewed on his hash browns, and tried to mentally deflect Hanzo’s gaze. He swore he could feel it, piercing, always piercing. Something that Genji rarely shared, spare those dead serious moments that had come by once in a blue moon. Of course, Hanzo wasn’t Genji. And McCree could only wonder what he’d done to warrant this forceful glare being set upon him.

“Something is bothering you.”

McCree almost choked on his food again, but he managed not to this time.

“Ain’t that a touch presumptuous?”

Silence. Then:

“No.”

McCree wasn’t sure if Hanzo got the joke or not. It was hard to tell. He’d yet to see Hanzo smile and hadn’t heard him make any jokes, either. It was a mystery whether or not he even had a sense of humour to speak of.

“Is something the matter?”

Again with the almost monotonous question. If McCree wasn’t listening carefully, he would’ve assumed Hanzo’s words a statement or even a demand for the sole reason that he said them like one. But there was the slight raise in tone, and that alone told McCree that Hanzo was probably asking, actually asking him.

McCree wasn’t sure how to respond. He looked up to see Hanzo, still looking at him with his pretty brown eyes. As for his thoughts, McCree couldn’t read them. He turned. Nobody behind. The mess hall was empty, and it was just the two of them to occupy its space. He didn’t hear anyone coming.

“What is it?”

McCree shook his head. “Nothin’. Don’t worry about it, darlin’,” he said.

Hanzo frowned at the term of endearment, but he didn’t say anything about it. That was intriguing.

McCree hesitated, because he didn’t want to tell Hanzo about his dream. It’d sound weird and if he was going to be completely honest, he didn’t want to relive it. But Hanzo’s gaze was probing and serious, and McCree couldn’t lie to him.

“I had a dream,” he said. And he paused.

Hanzo didn’t say anything, so McCree continued.

“You were in it.” At that, a flicker of surprise. If not surprise, some emotion beyond glaring, because if anyone was going to make glaring a facial expression and an emotion, it was definitely going to be Hanzo.

McCree’s heart rate picked up, and he tumbled into the story. He told it clumsily, not doing it justice. But he told it nonetheless, sparing no detail from what he’d managed to recall at five in the morning. The flight through the desert’s cold, unfeeling grasp.

Hanzo and McCree stared at each other for a while. McCree had learned to read people because Gabriel had taught him, along with a myriad of other similar skills that had assisted them in the Blackwatch line of work. Yes, reading people had come in handy when McCree’s job was a clandestine affair filled with secrets and blackmail and psychological tests. He could not read Hanzo. The best he could guess from Hanzo was that he seemed disapproving like he always did.

“And this has been on your mind?” Hanzo finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.”

“That is most troubling.”

“Didn’t think it was a walk in the park to work with us, did’ja, archer? This is the kinda shit you gotta deal with. Nightmares and all.”

And at that, Hanzo graced McCree with the ghost of a smile. More like a smirk, really, but McCree wasn’t going to be picky about it.

“I have experienced worse.”

McCree thought about Genji. His arrival. How the process of his cyberization had stressed Angela to the point of missing so much food and sleep she’d passed out at one point during those two weeks. But it had been Genji, of course, to suffer the worst. McCree had visited him only once during his cyberization. There were so many machines and wires hooked up to him. There was so little of him left. Scars all over. What had happened to this man? The sight still haunted McCree when he remembered it.

He looked at Hanzo, into his eyes again. And this time, he thought he saw something new. As for what it was, he couldn’t say. Maybe curiosity, or something less cheerful than that. Interest.

Genji had spoken to McCree at length about his brother and his past. Sometimes to vent, sometimes just to talk about it, which could help if it was bothering him. There was sadness and pain that never went away fully, McCree knew that much. Genji had been, still was, absolutely convinced that Hanzo had scarred himself far worse than he’d hurt Genji. Considering Genji’s physical state, McCree had not ever found that to be particularly believable. But he never told Genji off for feeling that way. He'd always said it with such conviction, McCree knew that Genji wouldn't have accepted his opinion stating otherwise anyway. There must have been a reason Genji thought that.

Maybe McCree was looking at Hanzo now, and in him, he saw a tortured soul. Like himself. Like looking in a mirror. He didn’t have to ask; he could tell - Hanzo had not gotten over what he’d done to his brother. And maybe that was what he saw, was the guilt. Or maybe he was projecting.

“Spec you have, darlin’. Nightmares ain’t the end of it ‘round here. They sure as hell ain’t the worst.”

Hanzo had let his macaroni grow cold, but he finished it nonetheless. Neither he nor McCree had any follow-up to McCree’s statement. Though McCree wanted to say more, he couldn’t sort his thoughts. He watched the section of hair that dangled over Hanzo’s face, tempted to reach over to tuck it behind his ear. He didn’t.

McCree cleared his tray, and helped Hanzo clear his.

“Just tap this button,” he said, tapping it for Hanzo on his menu interface. The table slid aside, taking the tray and bowl.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said.

They both stood. Again, made eye contact. McCree felt feelings stir within him, feelings that he did not want to dredge up. But he couldn’t help feeling.

“Where you off to now? I got some time to rest, so... We can watch somethin’ in the commons, or visit the rec room, if you’re up for it.”

“I did not have plans for the day.”

“Alright. Genji show you ‘round the place?”

Hanzo nodded.

“Well, we can always go and relax. C’mon.”

McCree wanted to try, because even if Hanzo wasn’t friendly, he was. And damn it, he wasn’t going on a mission with a man he didn’t know. Hanzo had been tolerant of the dream, at the very least, and that was good. But it’d be nice to learn more about him. To talk to him more. Hanzo followed McCree out of the mess hall.

They ended up in the rec room, also empty. Not all that odd, but still a bit strange. They’d hardly seen any of the others besides Angela and Lena in the hall. Though, some of the others _were_ busy. Strategy talk. There might’ve been a meeting going on, but one not relevant to McCree. He was not known for his helpfulness at meetings in the reformed Overwatch.

McCree took a seat at one of the computers, invited Hanzo to do the same.

“Play any games?” he asked.

“A few,” Hanzo replied. “Genji was fond of arcade games.”

“Yeah, he’s told us about his high scores and makin’ other kids cry when he beat ‘em. The computers have a lot to choose from. If you log into Steam, most of your library’s probably already downloaded. These computers are well-stocked.”

After some comparison, they settled on Counter-Strike. It was a casual affair, but it took McCree’s mind off of things to click buttons and knife virtual people. In some ways, it was nothing like the work he’d done in his life. In some ways, it was too similar and he couldn’t think about it for very long. The sounds, mostly. Always the gunfire.

Even after a few particularly nasty losses, Hanzo remained calm. He made his calls, being a good teammate. McCree wondered if Hanzo was always like this. He was about to make a joke about it, when he looked over and saw the hard-set look on Hanzo’s face go from stone to an unmatched ferocity. It was like watching a match fall into a can of gasoline. Or an entire swimming pool filled with gasoline.

For a reason McCree couldn’t even discern - he wasn’t by Hanzo in the game at the moment - Hanzo barked out a string of very rude-sounding Japanese, laced with swears he’d heard from Genji multiple times over the years. It was terrifying. He killed someone in the middle of his shouting fit. It was distracting enough to get McCree sniped, but he didn’t even care.

He was staring at Hanzo, fuming in his seat, and he burst out laughing. He couldn’t stop, even when Hanzo demanded to know what was so funny and punched his arm. Okay, so Hanzo getting mad at a video game wasn’t the most promising sight because they’d have to be on a stealth mission together soon, but McCree laughed until there were tears in his eyes.

“What?!” Hanzo snapped, turning and punching McCree in indignance hard enough for him to yelp.

McCree grabbed his hand before Hanzo could hit him again, and tried to calm himself down enough to speak. Hanzo’s hand was cold as frigid ice, but McCree didn’t let it go because he could feel a bruise developing on his arm where he’d been punched. Hanzo made a cursory attempt to retrieve his hand and tug it back, but he took a deep breath and set his glare upon McCree, who was still stifling his giggles.

“Okay, what happened? Ain’t a damn thing in the game that shoulda made you that angry.”

Hanzo flushed, turning to the screen. Their team had lost, but McCree couldn’t care less.

“Our AWPer has stolen my kill for the fifth time this round.”

McCree blinked, then he had to start suppressing his laughter again. It didn’t go well. His stomach hurt from laughter.

“They weren’t even making headshots!” Hanzo yelled. “Let go of my hand, American, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” McCree challenged, grinning wide.

He took Hanzo’s hand - now slightly less cold - in both of his. Hanzo stammered a reply that might’ve consisted of one or two English words. McCree yelled, leaning back to avoid the slap from Hanzo’s other hand. Hanzo looked agitated, so McCree smiled at him and let his hand go with his mechanical hand that had been on top. Then he brought Hanzo’s hand up and kissed the back of it.

Hanzo didn’t say anything, but he looked shocked.

“Y’oughta take things less seriously, darlin’,” McCree said, giving him a wink.

Hanzo pulled his hand back, turned back to the computer. McCree couldn’t tell if he was blushing or still angry. He wondered what Hanzo was thinking, he wondered what _he_ was thinking, doing that. Didn’t he tell himself he wasn’t into Hanzo? He wasn’t. But Hanzo was handsome, and his eyes were pretty and deep brown, and he had that amazing tattoo, and maybe McCree couldn’t help it, was all.

“Let’s play something else,” Hanzo said. “Our teammates are unhappy.”

McCree rolled his eyes. “Like they’ll be more pleasant in the next game,” he said.

“It is possible,” Hanzo murmured.

“Hm... How 'bout Fareeha's favourite? Some good ol’ fashioned Call of Duty.”

Hanzo made a face, but relented. McCree didn’t really care what game they played. He just wanted to spend more time with Hanzo. He was getting to know this man. That was what mattered to him. Every so often, he’d sneak a look over at him, and he was focused on the game regardless of what was happening in it. He also noticed that Hanzo had opted for sniping, which made him smile.

“I can’t believe you picked the grenade launcher.”

“What was that, darlin’?”

McCree could see Hanzo turn to him in his peripheral vision and he was smiling back, of course he was. Hanzo huffed, not returning a smile of his own, and turned back to the screen.

It was easy to get lost in the game most days. But that didn’t happen now. Not with Hanzo beside him after that ridiculous shouting fit. It was hard not to be distracted by the man’s voice and presence. He made his calls, and McCree listened, took note, reacted to them in game. It turned out they worked together pretty well, at least virtually. But he also took note of Hanzo’s less-than-perfect posture. Ironic that Genji would sit almost ramrod straight at the computer but his more serious older brother wouldn’t. And McCree really loved the satisfaction that a solid headshot brought Hanzo, because he would show his almost smile.

After a while, McCree lost track of the hours. That was one of the reasons he tried not to spend too much time on video games. They made an excellent distraction, but he liked feeling in control of his day. Still, neither he nor Hanzo had work to do, so it didn’t matter. If they wanted to stay in the rec room shooting people on the screen all day and night, nobody could stop them.

Hanzo stopped him, though, after another round. It was a game well-fought and won.

“We cannot spend all our time in here,” he said.

McCree looked at him, but Hanzo was facing the screen as he spoke, checking out his stats.

“We can if there ain’t anything else you’ve got to worry about.”

“I suppose so.”

“Well, if you’d like to go stretch your legs, how ‘bout you show me how you shoot?”

Hanzo faced McCree then, as if testing the seriousness of his request.

“Alright,” he eventually said.

They logged out and left.

“Hold on,” McCree said, stopping in front of the staircase.

“What is it?”

“I’d better fetch my gun if we’re gonna practice. It’s in my room.”

Hanzo’s bow and quiver were slung over his chest.

“You do not carry your weapon with you?”

“Well, not to breakfast, darlin’. Didn’t exactly plan on the gaming, but hey, don’t really need a gun in there, anyway. Least, not a real one, heh.”

Hanzo followed McCree to his room, and that made McCree fumble with the door’s scanner. He could feel Hanzo looking at him, just like he had at the mess table. It was a look to rival the scorching desert sun.

His gun was sitting on his bed. He grabbed his holster and turned to Hanzo, who was surveying his room with interest. At least, McCree assumed it was interest.

“Pardon the mess,” he said.

“It is not very messy.”

“Yeah, spec you’re right. I cleaned up after coming back from the mission, so it ain’t too bad in here. For now.”

McCree was making his way out the door, sidling up to Hanzo, when Hanzo stepped inside. Goddammit. He didn’t want Hanzo to look for too long. Without a doubt, he’d find something to disapprove of, or something incriminating, sooner than later. But he wasn’t going to look through McCree’s drawers, thank the lord for that.

His hands settled on an item that sat on McCree’s dresser. His old cellphone, screen even more cracked than his current one.

“Yeah, that’s a dusty old thing,” McCree said. “Doesn’t even project 3D holograms, if you can believe it. It does the 2D, though.”

Hanzo looked amused. “It is hard to believe,” he replied, but McCree couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

He picked up McCree phone, and McCree almost stopped him. But his words stuck in his throat before they could even form, and he found that he couldn’t tell Hanzo not to look through his things. He realized he didn’t mind, and that was an alarming discovery to make.

McCree didn’t lock his phones. Not because he was fine with people going through his files, but because he didn’t hold fear of that possibility. He rarely handed his phone to others, rarely needed to. But here was Hanzo in his room, his private living place. His personal space. His refuge, because he could call nowhere else his home. And here was Hanzo holding his phone, but McCree still didn’t mind.

“Did you take these pictures?”

McCree blinked out of his reverie.

“Huh? Oh yeah, sure did,” he said, approaching Hanzo and hoping it wouldn’t get him bitten or shot.

Hanzo was going through his photos the old-fashioned way, in the gallery through the phone itself and not holo-projecting them even though it was just the two of them in the room. He lingered on a candid of Genji laughing before swiping to the next, which was a picture of McCree and Angela.

“They are nice,” Hanzo said quietly.

“Thanks, darlin’.”

McCree’s face warmed up as he became hyperaware of their close proximity. He was hovering over Hanzo’s shoulder and could smell him - he smelled kind of like Genji, minus the lingering hint of lime candy that never quite left Genji's cyborg body. Hanzo was also wearing one of Genji’s many cat t-shirts, but McCree chose not to comment on that. He was staring at the section of skin between neck and shoulder, showing a bit of his handsome tattoo. McCree wanted to lean just a little closer, and plant a kiss. He wanted to bring his arms around Hanzo’s front to pull him in.

God, he smelled good.

“Come, let us go to the shooting range.”

McCree was startled when Hanzo turned to face him. He was so close McCree even felt, for the briefest of moments, Hanzo’s words. They were a warm brush of air against his cheek. McCree looked into his eyes, memories of his dream fading and being replaced with new thoughts, new worries.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

Tongue-tied.

With that, Hanzo set McCree’s phone back down onto the table and they left. McCree locked the door.

The non-virtual shooting range wasn’t empty, which had McCree half disappointed and half grateful. Jack and Lena were training with their respective pulse weapons.

“Afternoon, y’all.”

“Hey, Jess!” Lena called from the far side of the big room. She was running the obstacle course, blinking, jumping, shooting. It was dizzying to watch. Jack was just shooting his gun at one of the stationary targets. Good ol’ Jack.

McCree turned back to Hanzo. “So, what’re you up for, darlin’?” he asked.

Hanzo took his bow in hand, nocked an arrow. Then he looked around.

The shooting range wasn’t huge, but it was respectably-sized. There were Overwatch facilities with far more impressive training areas, and McCree had been to them, trained at them. Gibraltar’s perk was the space stuff and the fancy virtual shooting simulator in the other room, which was good because it didn’t use any real bullets. Still, McCree preferred practicing with his real gun. There was spare ammo in the room available for people who wanted to train.

There were also moving targets in the room, and Hanzo made his way towards them. McCree followed. He thought maybe he could get a feel for Hanzo’s style and how he fought, or at least how he shot. Then he wouldn’t get in Hanzo’s way during their upcoming mission. It was purely strategic, and had nothing to do with McCree’s admiration for the way Hanzo’s stride was so purposeful and confident.

Hanzo shot one of the training dummies through the neck. A warm-up, perhaps. It was still moving, but the bots could be paused later for easy arrow retrieval.

“Will you shoot?” Hanzo asked as he took another arrow and drew back the bowstring.

“‘Course,” McCree replied, readying his gun.

The cylinder held a full six bullets, McCree knew, but he checked anyway out of habit. His gun was in fine condition; he took good care of it.

There wasn’t a lot of concentration involved in shooting, in McCree's humble opinion. Both McCree and Hanzo knew the motions and they let their arrows and bullets fly. McCree could stop to reload, and take the time to watch Hanzo.

He thought it was beautiful. Undeniably so. The way Hanzo reached for his quiver and retrieved an arrow. The way he moved, expert hands, expert fingers, making the motions fluid and swift. And then he’d bring the bow up, pulling the string back - McCree could see the effort of it in his arm muscles - aiming, firing with the release.

McCree knew he didn’t shoot with the same regal, almost leonine stature that Hanzo had. He was quick and made each bullet count, and supposed that alone was admirable in its own way. He didn’t wish he was more like an archer, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t stare. McCree thought that if watching Hanzo wasn’t a good use of his eyes and time, well, he couldn’t think of anything better.

The dummies were very bullet-ridden, but they’d be repaired later so others could test their skill and practice. Plenty of them held arrows, too. And sure, maybe McCree shot with some more effort and finesse because Hanzo was here and making the occasional glance to the side. But that didn’t have to mean anything.

“Nice shootin,” McCree said.

Hanzo let his arrow fly, and it punctured a dummy’s head. Not quite in the middle, but it was a good shot nonetheless.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said.

Then he gave McCree a funny look. Odd light glimmered in his eyes. McCree thought that this was the first sign that things were about to get very interesting.

“Would you like to see something entertaining?” Hanzo asked, turning to McCree with that almost-smile on his face.

McCree had a feeling where this was going, but that didn’t mean he was going to pass it up.

“‘Course I would.”

“Stand back.”

McCree stepped back, ready to watch a spectacle unfold. He could only wonder what the others would think. Lena was still blinking audibly around the obstacle course, Jack was still shooting.

Hanzo took an arrow from his quiver, which McCree noticed was the last. Perhaps that was why he was offering a show - he wanted to make the last shot count. And McCree could understand that.

He took a deep breath, and shouted in Japanese: _“[Dragon, consume my foes!]”_

McCree had only seen Genji’s spirit dragon once. They were out on a mission. It was tense. Gabriel had asked Genji for a favour. He’d been more than happy to oblige, and wouldn’t have turned Gabriel down anyway. With a flash of green and a Japanese shout not unlike what Hanzo had loosed, he’d dashed into the heart of the fray and murdered about five people while Gabriel stood by and watched, satisfaction on his face.

Hanzo was a little different, and when it had happened with Genji, it had been so quick McCree hardly saw any of it. Hanzo’s tattoo glowed blue, brighter than the navy ink, and the dragon seemed to lift right off of his skin. But it wasn’t the tattoo, it was a stronger force. Something less mundane, though it was a very nice tattoo. The blue spirit dragon snaked away from Hanzo’s arm and surged into the arrow as he fired it. It split into two dragons that roared, a grand sound that McCree heard not only in his ears but as if it was coming from the inside of his head. They curled around each other, flowing forward.

They obliterated the dummies.

Hanzo looked about as content as McCree had ever seen him. The dragons faded, and McCree stepped closer.

“Hey, what’d you do to the dummies, loves?” Lena asked.

McCree jumped. Hanzo didn’t, but he was startled to see her sudden appearance behind them.

“Sorry. I destroyed them,” Hanzo said.

“Oh, it’s okay, I was curious is all. Dunno if they can be repaired from that state, though... They look burnt.”

The remains of the training dummies were indeed smouldering.

“I will pay for them,” Hanzo said dismissively.

Lena shrugged and blinked back to the obstacle course. Jack hadn’t even removed his attention from his targets; they had his full concentration.

McCree had just shared a moment with Hanzo, one of the most breathtaking moments of his whole life. He would never be able to release the mental image of Hanzo’s focus being centred around the one arrow. The blue spirit dragons. The way they glimmered, glowed, and curved with an aerial grace no living animal could ever hope to replicate.

Hanzo walked forward, picking out his arrows from the debris. They were a little dusty, but otherwise intact and, as far as McCree could tell, still usable.

“What about the one you just fired?” McCree asked as Hanzo slid the arrows back into his quiver.

Hanzo turned to him and made eye contact before shaking his head. McCree wasn’t sure what that meant, but he assumed the arrow was gone. Vaporized, maybe.

Something about that display told McCree more about Hanzo than he could’ve learned otherwise. They’d have to have a conversation sooner or later, surely, but for now... this would suffice. Hanzo was a good shot and his spirit dragons were powerful. His abilities weren’t why McCree was ready to go on a mission with him, though. He liked Hanzo’s levelheaded attitude, and found his burst of anger rather charming even if it was over something so silly. Or perhaps because of it. Yelling at Counter-Strike had been awfully uncharacteristic of him, as far as McCree could gather, but he’d have to probe further. Hanzo didn’t seem like the type to jeopardize a real life mission by making a rash decision. Genji had complimented him at length for being a master strategist, good with tactics. That was a plus.

McCree knew the brothers had been in combat before as Genji had told Overwatch plenty about his past, but he could only wonder if the fights they’d been in were anything like the upcoming mission. Genji had always kept his calm. Not once had he lost control and rarely did he slip up. Then again, it was easier to strive for perfection as a cyborg and not a human.

Humans made mistakes.

McCree knew that well. He knew Hanzo knew that very well, too.

“Are we going to shoot again?” Hanzo asked.

McCree looked over the burnt training dummies. Some of them were still smoking from Hanzo’s brutal attack. Their bullet and arrow holes wouldn’t be repaired anytime soon, if ever. McCree wasn’t sure whether or not they were salvageable, but they weren’t moving, so he didn’t think they were in good shape for anyone.

“Uh, nah. I’ll leave Winston a message about the dummies, but I think we’ve caused enough damage for one day.”

Hanzo nodded.

“Well, we still don’t have anything to do. Let’s go watch some TV with the others.”

Hanzo didn’t look particularly taken with the idea, but he followed McCree out anyway. McCree wasn’t sure if that was because of the bond they were forging or because Hanzo was really, really bored. It might’ve been some of both, if he was going to be realistic.

Watchpoint: Gibraltar was set far from the rest of civilization in Gibraltar. It was about an hour’s hovercar drive down to the nearest town. Another grocery trip would be needed sooner or later, if only because they were running out of snacks in the pantry. During the Route 66 mission, Angela had mentioned that her stash of premium chocolate was also low. They could order snacks and treats from the mess hall’s menu, but everyone agreed that it wasn’t the same as real snacks.

A few of the others were hanging out in the common room. Reinhardt was asleep on the armchair, snoring. Angela looked bored on the loveseat, and it seemed she was messaging someone. McCree wondered if she enjoyed the spare time, or if she was itching to get back to work but someone had convinced her to take a break. She could get really caught up in her work, and McCree understood that. Gabriel had been fond of his breaks and his work in equal measure. McCree didn’t mind getting things done, but working with Blackwatch had given him a renewed appreciation for still moments.

“Hello, Dr. Ziegler,” Hanzo said before McCree could greet her.

She looked up. “Hello Hanzo, hello Jesse,” she said, giving a smile. “And please, just call me Angela.”

Hanzo took a seat at the end of the couch. McCree wouldn’t have been offended if he’d gone to sit beside Angela. He’d understand; the two were similar in nature. Of course, Angela had her outward sunny disposition, but they were both serious and rather like each other when one paid attention. McCree had been paying close attention to Hanzo. He didn’t have a complaint in mind, though, and he took the middle seat by Hanzo’s side.

“How has your day been?” Angela asked, putting her phone down to get conversational.

“Alright,” McCree replied with a shrug. He turned to Hanzo for a moment before adding, “We played some video games and headed to the shooting range. Hanzo destroyed most of the training dummies.”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “Is that a good thing?” she asked.

Hanzo frowned. “No, I do not think so,” he said.

“I oughta tell Winston. He’ll know what to do with ‘em. They ain’t all that fancy anyway,” McCree said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “Christ, y’all gotta calm down with the group chat.”

“I wasn’t speaking in it,” Angela said. “I was texting someone.”

“I have yet to check the group chat,” Hanzo said, pulling his phone out.

“Don’t bother,” McCree muttered.

He scrolled through his contact list, taking note that Hanzo was now in it because of his addition to the team. McCree didn’t chat with Winston often; they didn’t have much in common. Everyone knew Winston preferred to keep his notifications off when he was working. With all that was going on, he was often at work and did not appreciate being bothered.

“Alright, I think that’ll be warning enough,” McCree said as he sent the message.

The news was playing, but Angela changed the channel and settled on a competitive cooking show. McCree knew that Angela adored watching certain sports like tennis, but sports bored him to tears, and it was a small miracle she opted for something else to entertain the group. Maybe she remembered his dislike for tennis.

Before long, McCree and Angela were calling out to the contestants. Berating them for using too much of an ingredient, being sloppy, not using their time wisely. Even Hanzo tossed in handful of comments. By the end of the show, McCree and Angela were both exhausted with hoarse throats.

“Does all of Overwatch get this worked up over cooking shows?” Hanzo asked.

“Nah, darlin’. But Angie and I sure do.”

Angela nodded in tired agreement, watching McCree closely. Then she stood and beckoned him over.

“I am reminded of your last checkup. Come, Jesse, let’s take a few minutes to discuss.”

McCree looked like he wanted to protest, but was silenced by Angela’s expression. He got up and followed her out to the doorway. Hanzo was focused on the TV.

Angela watched him, decided he was distracted enough, and turned back to McCree.

“You like him,” she said.

McCree scoffed. “What?” he asked. “How can you say that, Angela? We met _yesterday._ ”

“And yet here you are, spending your whole day with him.”

“Hey, he and I are two of the only people ‘round the base right now who ain’t got jobs to tend to.”

“While that is true, I...” Angela shook her head. McCree heard her phone buzz, but she ignored it. “Are you not scared?”

McCree was confused. “Scared of what?” he asked.

“Don’t you remember the last time?” Angela asked, words quiet but much more forceful than McCree had been expecting. “He did not reciprocate. But you like his brother now.”

McCree recoiled at that. “I couldn’t help likin’ Genji. Those days are over, Angela. I can like other people. It didn’t work out ‘tween him and I," he said stiffly.

“Yes, well, it was not your fault he loved another.”

“Exactly,” McCree said, sighing. “Now, I ain’t sayin’ I like Hanzo, but you can’t blame me for tryin’ to get to know the fella. We have to work together on the Grand Mesa mission, and I’d much rather have a teammate I can trust than a stranger.”

Angela took a deep breath. “I do not want to see you get hurt again. Not... in that way. It was messy,” she said.

“I know you’re worried, Angela. I understand. But c’mon, can’t you trust a grown man’s judgment?”

Angela’s expression soured. “No,” she said with undisguised derision that made McCree smile. “I apologize for pulling you aside like this, Jesse. I worry often, and it’s hard to calm my anxiety. Maybe it’s the stress and fatigue, I don’t know.”

“Hey, don’t feel bad ‘bout it, Angie. I worry about you, too. Workin’ yourself to the goddamn bone like this,” McCree said, shaking his head. “You gotta take more breaks, y’know?”

“I know. I’ll have to try, Jesse.”

“You’re a smart woman. Sometimes you just gotta remind yourself it’s okay to pause.”

Angela gave a thoughtful nod.

“And for the record, I _don’t_ like Hanzo in that way. We’ve only just met. You can’t develop a crush on someone in a day, that’s silly. I hardly know the guy. Can’t even call him a friend, but that’ll come with time, maybe.”

McCree turned at Hanzo’s aggravated shout. Someone in the show had made an idiotic decision, it seemed. He chuckled.

“You called him darling,” Mercy said under her breath.

“Pardon?” McCree said, turning back to face her.

“Nothing, nothing,” Mercy said. She flashed a winning smile, and gestured back into the common room. “Let’s not miss the rest of the show. It sounds like it’s getting interesting now.”

“Yeah, sure does.”

Of course, neither McCree nor Mercy believed McCree’s words. McCree could deny it to himself, but under Mercy’s watchful gaze, there were no secrets. McCree didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but his old friend read him like a book.


	3. to be the one for whom death awakens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've actually had ch.3 and 4 done for a while i'm just too lazy to post... happy holidays!! probably gonna try and get the update for IT'S BASICALLY DISCORD out within the week :) //

Genji had texted McCree in the middle of the night. It was a minor issue for him; he was a cyborg, but McCree made an effort to sleep and to be well-rested now that he was on ‘break’. He didn’t complain, though, because he was heading to the washroom anyway. He pulled his phone out to reply, wondering what issue could be so pressing at 3:58 AM.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @GENJI & @MCCREE --**

**GENJI:** What is this i hear of you talking to my brother

 **MCCREE:** what kinda goddamn question is that

 **MCCREE:** genji its 4am

 **GENJI:** Oh

 **GENJI:** Sorry about that i dont sleep much

 **MCCREE:** i know

 **MCCREE:** but whyre you askin me this now

 **GENJI:** Well i am talking to him right now

 **MCCREE:** whys he up at 4am

 **GENJI:** None of your business

 **MCCREE:** well alrighty then

 **GENJI:** Are you courting him

 **GENJI:**  Is he courting you

 **MCCREE:** courting??

 **MCCREE:** cmon genji its 2076

 **GENJI:** Whatever

 **GENJI:** Oh look he fell asleep

 **MCCREE:**  pfft like i can see that

 **MCCREE:** hold on i gotta pee

 **GENJI:**  I did not need to know

 **GENJI:** Haha he looks like an idiot asleep

 **MCCREE:** ok im back

 **GENJI:** Did you wash your hands

 **MCCREE:** genji

 **GENJI:** Just teasing

 **MCCREE:** yeah i washed my hands

 **MCCREE:** anyway im not courting him nor the other way around

 **MCCREE:** both of us had some time to hang out so we did

 **MCCREE:** aint got any meetings

 **MCCREE:** took the time to play some games and shoot dummies and watch food network with angela

 **GENJI:** I love food network

 **GENJI:** Angela gets so worked up over it

 **MCCREE:** be honest genji we all get worked up over it

 **GENJI:** Yes it gets intense

 **GENJI:** Anyway

 **GENJI:** Hanzo is

 **GENJI:** Well hes not a very nice person sometimes

 **GENJI:** But hes trying

 **GENJI:** I can see why you would like him

 **MCCREE:** genji im tellin you were just friends

 **MCCREE:** or coworkers who are acquaintances at least

 **GENJI:** Yes yes of course

 **MCCREE:** you dont believe me do you

 **MCCREE:** come to think of it i dont think angela did either when i told her

 **GENJI:** Did she talk to you about hanzo too

 **MCCREE:** yeah

 **GENJI:** Hahaha wow

 **GENJI:** Well hanzo told to me about his day

 **GENJI:** It sounded fun

 **GENJI:** I wish i wasnt stuck in the talon meeting for most of it

 **MCCREE:** dont worry about it well have other opportunities to hang out

 **GENJI:** Yes that is true

 **GENJI:** It is nice to hear you had a good time with him

 **MCCREE:** hes plenty entertainin ill say that much

 **GENJI:** I hope he treats you well

 **GENJI:** Better than he treats me at least

 **MCCREE:** genji please

 **GENJI:** Ill save the jabs for later

 **GENJI:** Go to bed its very late

 **MCCREE:** im goin im goin

 **MCCREE:** night genji

 **GENJI:** Good night

McCree sighed and set his phone down by his gun in its spot beside his pillow. He rubbed his mechanical arm. It wasn’t bothering him much now, which was good. He thought about how Hanzo had yelled at Counter-Strike. And his amazing spirit dragons. McCree drifted off to that mental image: Hanzo firing his dragons forth from his bow.

 

The strategy meeting had been on Jack’s schedule. Out of all his duties as a commander all those years ago, one of the important jobs he really had a knack for was schedule-making and abiding. There had been others who could do the same, but he’d always insisted on doing it himself. So now in the fledgling reformed Overwatch, everyone counted on Jack to keep them on task.

After too many mishaps to count on one hand, McCree had made it a point to adhere to the schedule. Jack did not fuck around with the schedule. McCree set reminders on his phone for the meetings, and didn’t miss them anymore. He didn’t arrive early nor did he put any special effort into them, but he showed up. For everyone, that was above expectations. For Jack, that was good enough.

Jack could hardly blame McCree for the light insubordination. McCree had never been his to control. Command, maybe. Technically. But not control. Blackwatch had been solid Gabriel Reyes territory, and everyone knew and respected that. Gabriel commanded respect - not outwardly, but in his own quiet, almost casual way. Not for the first time, McCree felt a twinge of sadness at Gabriel’s absence.

Then he brushed it aside, because feeling that way wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

Jack started talking.

“It’s good to have you on board with us, Hanzo,” he said.

Hanzo nodded.

McCree took in the sight of him, and it helped him feel a little better. He was reminded of the fun they’d had playing video games together, shooting in the training room. Chatting throughout the day. McCree smiled.

“I’ll go over the mission details in case Jesse didn’t fill you in completely.”

“He did not,” Hanzo said.

Jack gave Jesse a look of stern disapproval. Ana smiled, but hid it with her hand.

“Oh, c’mon Jack. I knew you’d be goin’ over the details anyway. Why bother?”

Jack sighed, but didn’t press further. He took his phone out and projected the map of Watchpoint: Grand Mesa from it. With a series of gestures, he rotated it and marked with a red arrow the practical entrances.

“The Overwatch Dropbox and MEGA are linked in the chat group. There’s a channel for links, so you can download the map from the MEGA,” he said as he drew another arrow with his fingertip. “These are your options for infiltration.”

Ana leaned in to trace over a few of the arrows with yellow.

“We were thinking about taking one of these doors. The side entrance to the south and the roof are both equally acceptable, in my opinion,” she said.

“Christ, Ana,” McCree muttered. “How d’you expect us to get to the roof?”

“I can climb,” Hanzo said.

“Alright listen, darlin’, not all of us can do the things you and your brother can.”

Hanzo turned to McCree and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, don’t you give me that look-”

“Jesse,” Jack said, exasperated.

“Alright, but he started it,” McCree said with a huff.

Hanzo scoffed in amusement.

There was quiet, not from the silly exchange, but because Ana and Jack were both scrutinizing the map. Hanzo turned his attention to it as well, and a look of focus fell over his face that McCree couldn’t help but notice. He didn’t personally care about which entrance they chose. Nobody had driven him to strategize about that stuff since Gabriel. He’d made choices of his own when he was lying low and keeping away from the authorities after the fall of Overwatch. Otherwise, now that these people were all together, he could sit back and relax.

But then he had a thought.

“Let’s take the south side on ground level,” he said.

“Any reason?” Jack asked. “Not that it matters, but it’d be good to know.”

McCree shrugged. “Just thinkin’ about Lena and Genji’s mission from ‘bout six weeks ago. They went for the roof route, and it didn’t go so well. Not sayin’ that it’d go bad for us, too, but I can’t help bein’ skittish.”

Saying that it hadn't gone well was an understatement. 

“Alright,” Ana said with a nod of understanding. “We’ll take the south side, then.”

Hanzo was still staring at the diagram. Because McCree wanted to hear his thoughts, he prompted, “Hanzo?”

“I will follow,” Hanzo said, not commenting on the decision. But he wasn’t staring at the map anymore with an intensity to rival the sun, so McCree could only assume he made the right call.

“Alright, good enough for me,” McCree said, shrugging.

“There may be guards on the roof,” Hanzo said. Carefully and deliberately, as if the words concealed an unseen threat. “I agree that it would be wiser to take the other entrance.”

McCree squinted at him. Hanzo didn’t elaborate, nor did he make eye contact. Ana nodded again, to show that she was listening. But it didn’t look as if she thought Hanzo’s words had been offered strangely, so McCree didn’t comment on it.

The rest of the session was review, for the most part. Jack talked about his previous raid on Grand Mesa. He talked about the guards, how they fought, how they’d been armed. He talked about how the visit had unsettled him, because something had been off about the guards. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Even now, I don’t have a guess for why,” Jack said. He looked frustrated. “I wish I could help more.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Jack,” McCree said, zooming into the south side entrance on the holomap.

The group discussed routes that could be taken, and took the time to familiarize and re-familiarize themselves with the facility. Hanzo hadn’t said anything since the roof comment. McCree was getting tired of staring at the hallways, glowing the classic holo-diagram shade of cyan. There were many passages and rooms; the facility was a decent size. There could be any number of secrets hidden inside. With luck, they’d find the cause of what had been troubling Jack.

“And even if you don’t find anything, steal another gun for me,” Jack said.

McCree and Ana laughed. Jack didn’t elaborate, and dismissed the meeting.

 

McCree went to take a nap because thinking about the upcoming mission worried him more than he would’ve liked to admit. It’d be better than Deadlock, surely; he didn’t have bad memories of Grand Mesa. But he couldn’t help dwelling on everything that could go wrong. Things had gone wrong in the past. No mission was perfect. He gripped his mechanical arm, remembering the series of mishaps that had almost killed him, and taken his left forearm away.

When they had made their escape and were safe, Gabriel had spoken to him in quiet and harsh and quick words, forceful reassurances. He would make it through. Later in the infirmary, Ana had sat with him for a while. Not telling him about how he would certainly heal and recover from losing half his arm, but she’d taken his intact hand and she’d talked to him about others things for about an hour. She talked about her day, the tea she’d had, about her daughter Fareeha. McCree had passed out listening to her and to the low hum of the medical equipment monitoring him and keeping him alive.

McCree didn’t remember much through the haze of drugs, the painkillers. Apparently he’d been a fussy patient, though certainly not because he’d wanted to make things harder for his caretakers. Maybe his body didn’t take well to the chemicals, or maybe there was a lot more pain than they expected, he wasn’t sure. But he’d woken up a few times, numb in the entire upper left half of his body. The others had visited him, left him flowers and ‘get well soon’ cards and sent him kind messages. And he’d dreamt, but the dreams were foggy and loose. Something had happened that he never quite found out the truth about. Gabriel sitting by his bed, mumbling to him in Spanish.

Gabriel had called him ‘mijo’.

McCree made it through. Of course he did, and with a shiny new arm to boot. He’d woken up to the sight of Angela’s worried face, hovering over him as she adjusted his pillow. Upon seeing him blink awake, her features had relaxed into a relieved smile. Gabriel was there, arms crossed, asleep. Sitting on the chair by his bed.

McCree remembered his words, but never asked him whether or not he’d actually said them. He doubted Gabriel would tell him the truth. He’d woken at five in the morning, but Gabriel had called everyone over and they were all glad to see him awake. Some of them weren’t at the facility, but made an appearance by holovid.

“It’s so great to see you, love! You were out for a long time,” Lena had said, bright smile on her face.

Everyone filled him in on the current goings-on, and McCree felt like he’d never been away from them. They didn’t talk about how McCree had lost his arm on a Blackwatch mission - by extension, an Overwatch mission. He wouldn’t receive recognition for his injury in the line of duty, and while he didn’t care about it, he knew Gabriel was angry. On his behalf. But they didn’t talk about it.

They’d never talked about it.

McCree napped for a few hours. He didn’t remember most of his dreams, of which there were a few, but he remembered the sight of Hanzo smiling. A real smile, not like the smirks and almost smiles he’d given so far. It had been against the backdrop of a snowy Boston winter. McCree had visited the place a few times because it held an important Blackwatch facility. The snow had been unpleasant, but beautiful, in its own chilling way.

He could feel hunger starting to poke at him, and grabbed a kiwi from the kitchen. He set to wandering around the facility and ended up in the rec room. Both Shimada brothers were there.

“Afternoon, y’all,” he said, taking a bite out of the kiwi.

“Yo,” Genji replied, turning from the computer. He did a double-take. “Are you eating a kiwi?” he asked.

McCree nodded, said, “Yeah.”

Genji paused his game. “Why did you take a bite out of it?” he asked.

Hanzo removed his headphones and turned around. McCree lifted the kiwi with two bites taken out of it.

“You can eat the skin, y’know.”

At that, Hanzo emoted.

“But why would you?” he asked. “Just because you can, does not mean you should.”

Genji didn’t say anything but McCree could see the look on his face, the insufferable smile because now Hanzo had the reins and if his insults came anywhere close to Genji’s earth-scorching prowess, McCree would be forced to retreat with tail tucked between his legs.

“Hungry,” McCree said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“That is disgusting,” Hanzo said, but lightly and without venom in his voice. He turned back to the computer and put his headphones back on.

Genji looked disappointed in the minimal body language he showed, and McCree felt a small but very significant triumph.

“Well, Genji, you can’t make fun of me for how I eat kiwis. You’re playin’ Assassin’s Creed.”

“What do you have against this series, Jesse? It’s fun.”

McCree gave the screen a look of disdain. “It’s been goin’ on for too long,” he replied.

Genji shrugged.

“D’you even know which game you’re playin’ right now? ‘Cause I sure don’t.”

“Yes. It’s... yes. I know, of course I know.” Genji paused, tapping his chin as he thought. Then he shrugged. “It’s either the eighty-first or the eighty-eighth. They are basically the same.”

“Eighty-eight,” McCree repeated. “That’s too damn many.”

“Oh, relax, Jesse,” Genji chided. “Come sit with us. You can watch me climb buildings.”

McCree rolled his eyes. “You already do that in real life,” he said.

“Yes, but whatever.”

Genji scooched over so McCree could sit between him and his brother. McCree resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. He pulled a chair up to the table and took another bite out of his kiwi. Nobody was happy when people brought food to the computers, so McCree was careful not to sit too close lest he got kiwi juice on the table.

“What’ve y’all been up to today? ‘Cause I took a nap after the meeting.”

“So that is where you went,” Hanzo said, not looking away from his screen.

McCree turned to him. “Yeah,” he said.

He was surprised Hanzo had noticed his absence. He couldn’t deny that it made him feel special, considering how little Hanzo seemed to care about things in general.

Hanzo was drawing. McCree was surprised. Hanzo hadn’t struck him as the artistic type, though he supposed it made enough sense. Genji created beautiful calligraphy. He’d had lessons, was what he’d told McCree years ago. He didn’t do much with the skill, but he made nice birthday cards for people. Maybe Hanzo’s art skill was illustration. But come to think of it, the brothers’ affinity for art explained why McCree couldn’t take a single photograph without Genji materializing behind him to adjust the shot and pick out a filter for him.

“Nice drawin’ you got there,” McCree said.

Hanzo mumbled what might’ve been a thank you or expletives or something in Japanese. He’d spoken too quietly for McCree to tell.

He was drawing dragons, like his and Genji’s spirit dragons. Or maybe he was just doodling, and dragons seemed apt subject matter.

“Can you draw me?” McCree asked with a mischievous smile.

“No,” Hanzo replied flatly.

Genji burst out laughing and almost got himself killed in the game.

“Funny joke,” he said, saving his character from an untimely death.

“Very,” Hanzo added.

“Hey, what can I say? I know how to get people laughin’.”

“Of course, Jesse,” Genji said.

McCree spent the next hour alternating between watching Hanzo draw, making teasing comments that could easily be misconstrued for flirting, and watching Genji play the eighty-somethingth Assassin’s Creed. He finished his kiwi and left to wash his hands. When he came back, the brothers immediately stopped their very loud argument in Japanese.

“Well, I got very far today,” Genji said, saving the game and getting up. “I need to use the washroom. I will be right back. Do not expect me to be fast. I need to text someone.”

Before McCree could point out the fact that Genji didn’t need to pee and could open up an internal process to message people, Genji got up and left.

“Well, there he goes,” McCree muttered.

“He will be back soon enough,” Hanzo said, pen sliding across the surface of his tablet.

“You been hangin’ out in here for the whole afternoon?”

“Yes,” Hanzo said. He sounded as if he’d been mildly tormented.

“You ready for the mission?”

Hanzo’s hand stilled. Then he continued to draw.

“I downloaded the map,” he said. “It is on my phone now.”

McCree laughed, partially because he was stressed and nervous about the mission, partially because he hadn’t expected that reply so it was funny somehow. He probably laughed more than was acceptable, but he saw the side of Hanzo’s mouth twitch up so it was worth it.

“Spec I’m about as ready as I’ll ever be. Y’know, nothin’ preps you for a mission. I mean, you can’t tell how it’ll turn out, yeah?”

“Yes, I understand,” Hanzo said. “I am sure we will be fine.”

McCree remembered something about the meeting earlier.

“Hey, Hanzo? Back at the meeting, when I suggested that we take the ground level entrance... You agreed, but...” He shook his head. “I dunno, somethin’ about what you said made me wonder if somethin’ was bothering you? But you didn’t wanna bring it up?”

Hanzo stiffened visibly. Then he relaxed.

“No, Jesse,” he replied. The sound of him saying McCree’s name completely and utterly distracted him for the full six seconds before Hanzo continued: “I was merely unsure as to whether or not it would be acceptable for me to speak and to contribute my opinion. After all, I have not been around here for long.”

McCree smiled, and he relaxed, too.

“Well, of course you can, Hanzo. We’ll be glad to hear it. You’re a part of the team now, y’know?”

Hanzo nodded.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

McCree didn’t have anymore to say, but he was content with the response he’d received. So he sat and watched Hanzo draw. Once upon a time, he would’ve taken Gabriel’s tactics and used them. He was an expert when it came to psychoanalysis, and McCree had learned that well, if nothing else. He could’ve pestered Hanzo further - subtly. Hanzo hadn’t gotten much easier to read over the past twenty-four hours, but McCree was sure he could’ve dug up something useful if not incriminating. He didn’t, though. He watched Hanzo draw Genji’s spirit dragon - McCree could tell it was supposed to be Genji’s, because he’d coloured it green - and did not press further.

Trust was a delicate thing, but he could find it if he tried.

 

Hanzo wasn’t going to draw all evening. Genji had eventually returned, and not too long after, it was a reasonable time to leave the computers for dinner. McCree had followed, presumably because the kiwi he’d eaten wouldn’t sustain him for long. He and Genji conversed at length about an aspect of Assassin’s Creed that completely escaped Hanzo, who’d only played one of the games for about half an hour before stopping.

In the past week or so, McCree’s presence had become almost as dependable as Genji’s, which was quite a feat in and of itself. Genji and Hanzo did not act like they were close, but Genji was making a very solid effort in spending more time with Hanzo now that they were on terms better than trying to fight. Or worse, trying to kill each other. It wouldn’t do well for them to kill each other.

Hanzo hadn’t done a great job making friends with the other agents. They’d tried speaking to him, with some trying harder than others, but he really only bonded with Angela because she was a rational and tolerable person, though he didn’t mind Fareeha’s presence, either. Now McCree was hanging around him.

What was he to do?

Hanzo was tapping at his phone, catching up with the agents’ group chat on the secure client they used to communicate with each other. It was supposedly safer than the actual chat client upon which the program was based. Genji ordered his dinner for him from the menu table and Hanzo moved his arm aside, letting him because he didn’t care what he ate.

The chat was entertaining enough. McCree had taken the time to contribute to it throughout the afternoon, but Hanzo hadn’t paused his drawing to check.

It seemed he’d missed a lengthy and intense discussion on whether or not it was morally acceptable to enjoy pineapple on pizza. Why did this matter? Everyone had a very strong and entertaining opinion on the topic, but it had eventually tapered off and lost steam. The most recent messages were mundane conversation.

The table presented him with his dinner. There were bread rolls. It was some kind of green soup - cream of broccoli, according to the menu. There was a drink.

“Did you order me alcohol?” Hanzo asked, shooting a scathing look to Genji.

“Maybe. Hey, don’t look at me like that. You need to loosen up.”

McCree hid his laugh behind his gloved hand, but Hanzo caught it. He chose not to comment, and instead ate his soup. It was good. Genji looked like he wanted to say something, maybe make a joke, when McCree got a message on his phone and muttered a curse. He cleared his tray even though he hadn’t finished his dinner, and stood.

“Gotta go now. Sorry to cut our dinner short,” he said, flashing an apologetic smile. “Can’t leave Ana waitin’.”

“See you,” Genji said.

Hanzo gave a nod, and McCree nodded back before leaving. But it wasn’t as if they’d planned to have dinner together. Why was he sorry?

After a few more minutes of poking at his soup, Hanzo turned to Genji, who was watching a cat video projected from his phone. It was of a kitten batting around a ball of yarn. Classic cat video.

“[How is he like?]”

Genji laughed. “[Come on, brother. I’ve already told you he’s a good teammate. He has skill, even if he does not seem to show it.]” He paused the video. “[Were you two not at the shooting range together?]”

Hanzo could hear the implicated eyebrow raise in his question.

“[We were. I told you that.]”

“[And were you impressed?]” Genji asked, watching his brother carefully.

Hanzo stared at his soup.

“[I was,]” he admitted. “[He spent half the time watching me as discreetly as possible, which was not very discreet, but...]”

Genji elbowed Hanzo.

“[That is not surprising,]” he said.

“[What are you implying?]” Hanzo demanded.

Genji swiped his holovid to close it. He didn’t say anything, but Hanzo could practically see him thinking, mentally phrasing his desired reply.

“[He seems to like you,]” Genji said, without mockery in his tone. “[In what way, I will not make any guesses.]”

Hanzo rolled his eyes.

“[But you will still have those guesses.]”

“[Of course.]” Genji got up. “[Come. You’re not going to finish that soup, and you’ve allowed it to grow cold,]” he said.

“[How can you tell?]” Hanzo asked, but he cleared his tray without protest.

“[Infrared sight. Cyborg perks, brother. And you are never very hungry.]”

Hanzo scoffed, replied, “[Let’s go.]”

The two headed outside where the breeze was pleasant and the sunset was a beautiful blazing glory painted upon the sky. Bold, vibrant strokes of orange, red, pink, gold, purple streaked across their canvas, and the brothers took a seat overlooking the Alboran Sea. It was impossibly blue with rolling waves lapping at the cliff far below. The crashing white spray filled space that was left by the brothers’ lack of conversation. The quiet did not last long.

“[It’s going to be dangerous, you know. Even for you,]” Genji said, removing his mask and setting it down beside himself.

“[I know,]” Hanzo replied, tracing over the mask’s contours with his eyes.

“[Maybe it doesn’t seem like it, but you know there’s a reason Jesse doesn’t have his left arm anymore. He lost it on a mission. People have lost their lives. I’ve seen it happen, right in front of me.]”

Hanzo turned to Genji, whose face showed very clear sadness. He wondered if that sadness was for him or because of him. Perhaps it was both.

“[You told me when Jesse first asked me to join him that it would be dangerous. Are you worried that I will get myself killed?]”

Genji let out an unexpected laugh - too loud, too sudden to be passed off as casual.

“[Maybe,]” he said, the single word’s two syllables both loaded with absolute distress.

From the compartment in his left arm where he kept his phone, Genji produced the butterfly knife he’d taken to fidgeting with. The gift. He flipped it a few times.

“[Do you think I shouldn’t care about you as much as I do, because you tried to kill me?]”

Hanzo looked away, down upon the sun’s glare on the sea.

“[I still think you should hate me. You know that.]”

“[I do not, brother. Nor will I ever.]”

“[Why? I would not be able to blame you.]”

“[You know why. And for that reason, you have to keep yourself alive, don’t you think?]”

Hanzo looked at Genji, whose bright eyes reflected all of the setting sun’s beauty and none of its bright ferocity. He turned back to the water.

“[Yes,]” Hanzo said, because he knew it was the truth. Because he was grateful Genji did not hate him, though he was reluctant to admit it out loud. “[I suppose I would not have gone on the mission just to commit suicide, anyway.]”

“[Is that so?]” Genji asked, smiling at the sky. He was teasing, of course, but it still upset Hanzo to hear it.

“[It would not help the others if I went and died,]” Hanzo muttered.

“[You cannot jeopardize them, I am sure you know that.]”

“[I know.]”

“[Jesse would not blame you, but I know you are not going to get in any dangerous situations anyway.]”

“[I will not fail.]”

Genji’s expression turned serious.

“[You will not,]” he said in agreement.

Hanzo felt his phone vibrate and he ignored it.

“[Not on this mission, at least. For this mission, my life, unlike the lives of my teammates, is guaranteed.]”

Genji blinked.

“[You do not mean your skill alone will pull you through.]”

A rhetorical statement.

“[There is more to inevitable mission success than my abilities, but I will be realistic and say that they will certainly help us out.]”

“[It will not be a success if the others are harmed.]”

Hanzo paused thoughtfully. “[That is fair,]” he said. “[I will have to make sure that they are not harmed, then.]”

They were both quiet for a while, unsure whether or not the conversation would or should be stopped.

“[Do you still talk to your boyfriend?]” Hanzo asked.

Genji flipped the knife. Open, close, open, close. He held it like an ice pick before closing it again. It snapped shut with a loud _clack_.

“[I do,]” he replied. “[Who else would send the knife?]”

Hanzo frowned. “[He has your - our - location,]” he said quietly.

The knife hit Genji’s knuckles.

“[Yes,]” he said. “[But he would’ve known already. Gabe has been stationed here in the past, remember?]”

“[I suppose nothing can be done about that.]”

“[I suppose not.]”

“[Will you tell them?]” Hanzo asked, looking back up at the facility.

Genji stared at the knife. The blade had been engraved with a rose and two words: _mi amor_.

“[I am not sure,]” he said. He looked at Hanzo, and made the challenge clear: “[Will you?]”

Hanzo smiled but he tried to suppress it, so it looked more like a smirk.

“[If they find out, then they will find out.]”

Genji raised his eyebrows. “[At this rate, Jesse will have all of your secrets by the end of the week,]” he said.

Hanzo punched him.

“[Hey, I’m kidding, I’m kidding, brother. Come on! Don’t be like that. That hurts. Okay, it doesn’t, you don’t punch very ha- OW!]”

Genji laughed as Hanzo glared at him.

“[Jesse’s friendly, okay? He likes getting to know the new people. He was nice to me when I first joined, and very welcoming. Lena and Mei, too, but you get upset when they talk to you.]”

“[They are too easily excited,]” Hanzo muttered.

Genji cuffed Hanzo on the ear in what might’ve been a gentle manner, but Hanzo still leaned away from the touch.

“[Let’s go back inside,]” Hanzo said, getting up.

“[Had enough fresh air? Really, brother? You’re always indoors these days.]”

“[Shut up.]”

Genji put his balisong back into his arm compartment, picked up his mask, and hopped to his feet. He tailed Hanzo to the entrance of the facility, but before Hanzo could step inside, Genji grabbed his wrist. Hanzo almost jerked his arm away.

“[What?]” he asked, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt.

Genji didn’t let go. “[Promise me you’ll bring yourself and the others back alive, brother,]” he said.

Hanzo’s glare softened a fraction. He took a deep breath.

“[I promise.]”

 

A few of the other agents were hanging out in the common room, as they tended to do. Somebody had switched the channel to an entertaining comedy, and the room was filled with laughter. Genji and Hanzo joined Angela on the couch.

“Good evening, Angela,” Hanzo said.

“Hello,” she replied. “How has your day been?”

“I was at the strategy meeting for a while,” Hanzo said.

“And I was sleeping,” Genji said.

Angela laughed. “Really? Why?” she asked.

“Just because I can.”

Lena chimed in, “Even cyborgs can use a nap, love.”

“He doesn’t need it, though,” Angela said.

“Is it fun to nap?” Lena asked, turning to Genji.

“It’s a complete waste of time,” Genji admitted. “I need very little rest to sustain myself, so napping does not do much for me or my energy.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Genji thought about that. “It’s not too far from meditating. Of course, I do not expect you to understand how sleep is like for a cyborg. It is not the same as it used to be,” he said.

Then Lena, Genji, and Angela launched into a full-blown discussion of the differences between cyborg and human life. Genji was completely willing to answer their questions. Hanzo tuned out the conversation because being reminded of Genji’s current physical situation did not help his mood.

He stared at the TV screen as if it could offer him the answers he craved, and take from him his everlasting remorse. Of course, Genji had forgiven him. Hanzo knew that Genji wanted more than anything for Hanzo to forgive himself, but he found it exceptionally difficult to do so. Hanzo tried not to think about it, and Genji was nice enough not to remind him.

Sometimes, he reminded himself. There were times his guilt would strike at idle moments, whispering to him about his sins.

_You should have died._

He looked down at his hands. Intact. Scarred from all his years, but intact, along with the rest of his body. Hanzo looked back up at Genji, sitting on the couch beside him. He was laughing at something one of the others said. A comment from Mei or Fareeha, it seemed, both of whom had joined the conversation.

Genji’s face was striped with scars. Hanzo would never know how the damage on the rest of Genji’s body had looked like after their fight, but he knew it must’ve been bad. It had been very painful for Genji to be torn up. Hanzo remembered the screams. After the initial pleading for Hanzo to stop fighting, Genji had focused on defending himself as Hanzo pressed further. Their blades connected. Hanzo had chipped Genji’s sword with his own in a single violent strike. He had not loosed his spirit dragons, blue, glowing, coiling, until later.

Hanzo was reminded that Genji almost died, and everything was too loud, too bright around him. He wanted to get up and leave, but he felt rooted to his spot on the couch.

_I am sorry, Genji._

A joke was cracked on the show, and it caught the others’ attention. Genji accidentally elbowed Hanzo as he retrieved his phone. He’d gotten a message, apparently.

“[Sorry,]” Genji said before checking his phone.

The jostle had been enough to bring Hanzo back to reality. It didn’t command his full attention, but at least he could stop his downward-spiralling train of thought. He nodded in vague acknowledgement, and took his own phone out of his pocket.

There were notifications, most of them insignificant. Wait. Somebody had messaged him earlier, when he was sitting with Genji and watching the sunset. It was from the Overwatch chat program that Hanzo had yet to acquaint himself with.

He had indeed been sent a message.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @HANZO & @MCCREE --**

**MCCREE:** hey

Of course it was him.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @HANZO & @MCCREE --**

**MCCREE:** sorry i had to leave all of a sudden

 **MCCREE:** spec it was kinda rude

 **MCCREE:** ana wanted to chat is all

 **MCCREE:** yknow i actually told genji id talk to you

 **MCCREE:** yaint big on talkin but i think i should get points for effort

 **MCCREE:**  whoops gtg

Hanzo didn’t check the timestamps before sending:

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @HANZO & @MCCREE --**

**HANZO:** What.

He didn’t have to wait long before getting a reply.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @HANZO & @MCCREE --**

**MCCREE:** hanzo i sent those an hour ago

 **HANZO:** I was busy.

 **MCCREE:** really

 **HANZO:** No.

 **MCCREE:** yeah i figured

 **MCCREE:** neither of us is busy you think i dont know that

 **MCCREE:** where are yall

 **HANZO:** Commons.

 **MCCREE:** coulda guessed

 **MCCREE:** be there in a jiffy

 **HANZO:** Ok.

Hanzo put his phone back into his pocket. It was already getting late, but he supposed he understood why McCree would like to come and socialize. The atmosphere was happy enough, even if he himself was personally disengaged with everyone else. They seemed to be enjoying the show, at least. Genji was still on his phone.

It wasn’t even a minute before McCree appeared and walked right up to Hanzo on the couch.

“Scooch over,” he said.

Without looking up from his phone, Genji took a seat on the floor and Hanzo shifted to take his place. McCree sat down beside him and Hanzo noticed two things. Firstly, that the seat was warm and that was unpleasant in its own way. Secondly, McCree smelled like lemon and tea. That was odd, but Hanzo didn’t want to ask why because it was plausible that he’d spilled tea on himself. It’d be rude to ask.

But, a third point: he didn’t look very happy.

And Hanzo did not want to ask why. He’d gotten used to McCree’s casual demeanour with the laid-back, relaxed smile. It didn’t seem as if he was sad or angry, but he looked... tired, maybe. Hanzo couldn’t tell because it was strange enough not seeing McCree smiling at him like an idiot.

“[Genji,]” Hanzo said, prodding Genji’s back with his knee.

“[What?]” Genji asked, tapping at his phone.

“[Do you think... I am not sure, but Je- the... the person sitting beside me, he seems unhappy.]”

“[Really, brother?]” Genji asked, but the question was a sarcastic drawl.

Hanzo frowned, irritated that Genji wasn’t taking this seriously. But he could see there was no pulling Genji’s attention from his phone. Unless...

“You can sext your boyfriend later,” Hanzo snapped, voice raised.

Heads turned.

Genji didn’t even stop typing, continuing to tap out a reply with his right hand. Without turning to face Hanzo, Genji used his left hand to flip him the bird.

The room laughed and Hanzo’s anger was washed away by exasperation. In his peripheral vision, he saw McCree give a half-smile. Well, that was a small improvement, but not by much.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said, quiet under the room’s laughter at Genji’s overt rudeness.

“Yeah?” McCree asked, voice lowered.

“If I may request that you excuse yourself for a moment.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“If... If I may borrow you for a moment?”

McCree blinked as Hanzo got up, but he got the message, looking both amused and surprised as he followed Hanzo out of the room.

“Yeah that’s right, you’d better leave,” Genji said, still not looking away from his phone.

His cheeky comment got another round of laughter from the others. McCree chuckled, but something about him - either his voice or his body language, Hanzo did not register what it was, exactly - suggested nervousness. Where had that come from?

When they were alone in the empty hallway, Hanzo turned to him.

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked.

McCree raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t’ve asked me that inside?” he asked.

Hanzo’s gaze flitted down for a second.

“I did not think you would give me an honest answer.”

McCree’s smile melted into an expression that was less happy, but more impressed-looking if anything. Then he closed his eyes and sighed.

“Alright,” he said, opening his eyes again and looking directly at Hanzo. “You got me. Didn’t think you were much for carin’, but...”

“Hm.”

“Ana had to give me the reality talk. Wouldn’t be surprised if Genji did the same for you, all things considered. He ain’t about to be soft with you.”

Hanzo did not tell McCree that he was a hundred percent correct, because he suspected that McCree knew his assumption was sound.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been on a proper mission, yeah? Ana’s last Overwatch mission... well, she lost her eye, for starters. We thought she died. I thought she died. Won’t lie, I was devastated. We’re lucky to have her, especially with us now, y’know?”

McCree paused, and Hanzo noticed the movement of his fingers playing along the air as if he wished he had one of his cigars between them. Or his gun.

He continued, “We talked about a lot of things ‘sides the mission, but... she reminded me ‘bout the dangers. Overwatch as it stands right now ain’t a damn thing like it used to be, even if a few of us former members are back here. Even if we have people like Jack and Angela here, it really ain’t the same. But I mean, I was Blackwatch, so things wouldn’t be the same regardless...” McCree shook his head as if to shake his memories away. “Anyway, I can’t help feelin’ a little down and worried.”

“You are worried?” Hanzo asked.

“‘Course I am. It’s only natural, don’t you think? Ain’t you worried, too?”

Hanzo pursed his lips.

“No.”

At that, McCree gave his familiar easy smile.

“Well we can’t all be like you now, can we, sweetheart?”

Hanzo could not tell if McCree was flirting or being a condescending bastard. He was tempted to stamp on his foot to find out, but he managed to resist the impulse.

“Did you spill tea on yourself?” Hanzo asked, changing the topic.

McCree huffed. “Yeah, but that ain’t related to my mood. I can deal with a little drink spill,” he said.

Then he grinned, and in that moment Hanzo found him more insufferable than Genji.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” McCree said, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets.

His canines were sharp.

“You smell like tea and lemon,” Hanzo said, meeting his gaze.

McCree leaned in, and it took all of Hanzo’s willpower not to palm strike his face. If he was going to issue a challenge by asserting his height, Hanzo did not care to back up nor back down.

“‘Course, if I smelled like cherry blossoms, you’d be all over me.”

Hanzo could not even bring himself to shut down what was definitely McCree’s attempt at flirting, because he had to reply, “Cherry blossoms do not smell like anything.”

McCree laughed.

Okay, that was reassuring. It didn’t sound forced, so Hanzo assumed he had, against all foreseeable odds, managed to get a laugh out of him. He wasn’t sure if he’d go so far as to say he’d cheered McCree up, because his despair seemed a little too deep for a dry comment to brush away. Hanzo understood.

_It is nice to see you laugh._

He surprised himself with his own thought, and how he had been unable to stop himself from thinking it. He might’ve blushed or otherwise shown it on his face, but he did not wish to carry himself in such a manner. It would be crude. Especially now.

But McCree’s laughter fell into a smile, the smile Hanzo had gotten used to seeing despite having known him for such a short time, and he was instantly jabbed with a fit of daring.

Hanzo grabbed McCree’s serape and pulled him in closer. McCree’s eyes widened and he froze like a deer in headlights. Hanzo almost smiled. McCree had his silly cowboy hat on and Hanzo couldn’t tell, but he thought there might’ve been a blush on the man’s face. Just maybe. From the heat or the proximity, he could only wonder.

And then Hanzo spoke, because he wasn’t going to be content with holding on for a few seconds.

“If you think I am as easy as my brother, then you are mistaken.” He smiled now, genuine albeit very smug. “Keep that in mind.”

They were so close they were almost, almost touching. Hanzo’s words brushed hot against McCree’s lips and he let go to return to the common room where the others were still watching TV and laughing. He didn’t look back to see McCree’s reaction, because he was satisfied with the shocked look on McCree’s face, the look of prey. If prey was willing. Hanzo’s stride was confident as he rejoined the others.

His face was clear of emotion and he took his seat again beside Angela, behind Genji. Of course Genji had watched him walk back in.

“[Your heartrate is up.]”

“[Shut up, Genji.]”

“[What were you talking about outside? I can only assume you did not _stab_ Jesse for the thrill of it.]”

Hanzo shot his brother a withering look, and Genji responded with a smile. Insufferable because he loved making innuendos.

“[I managed to keep myself from committing homicide, if that is what you are asking,]” Hanzo said, refusing to entertain the sexual joke.

Genji snorted and turned back to the TV.

McCree came back and sat down next to Hanzo. He was looking away, ever so slightly, mechanical hand pressed against his face. Maybe to conceal his expression. Hanzo didn’t allow his gaze to linger, but it wasn’t difficult for him to see McCree blushing. And half-concealed by his palm: a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \\\ [todd](http://toddnet.tumblr.com) suggested mccree eat a kiwi for his post-nap snack and it spiralled downhill from there and he also suggested AC for genji’s game choice


	4. if it will hold, we will survive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i update really slow but What Ever //

The ship was one of many Overwatch had owned, but one of the very few that the newly reformed group had access to.

“What about the other facilities?” Genji had asked in a meeting months ago.

“We won’t be taking any facilities if we’re going to be working behind-the-scenes,” Jack had replied. “The old ships and equipment will have to stay where they are. Helix probably has some of them, but we shouldn’t reveal ourselves just to reclaim our things.”

It would be dangerous and they’d risk discovery. Gibraltar was more than enough for their current size, so there were no complaints on the issue.

Genji had spoken to Hanzo before they got on the ship, and Hanzo did not seem particularly pleased. McCree didn’t ask why; it wasn’t his place to do so. The day’s preparations had left everyone a little high-strung. But they weren’t tired, dealing with the anticipation. McCree supposed that was for the best, as they couldn’t exactly afford to be tired now.

The others had given the trio a fine sendoff. Fareeha had given her mother a hug, and that was heartwarming. Angela spoke to Hanzo. Jack talked to McCree, taking the time to go over what they already knew about Grand Mesa.

“We’ve heard this stuff five times already,” McCree replied.

Jack knew that, of course. “I’m sure you’ll all do a good job,” was what he left off with.

When the crowd had given their goodbyes, Genji approached Hanzo to talk to him in quiet Japanese. McCree wondered if the conversation had to do with what they’d been talking about yesterday evening. Reality talk had been his guess. He was sure of it because he knew Genji well enough to assume. The man was not fatalistic, but he was realistic.

The weather would be nice in Colorado. It was spring and a clear night.

Ana had been given a fancy pair of goggles to see in the dark, and she’d tapped her eyepatch, joked about only needing half. She would be keeping guard outside, equipped with her rifle. She’d be able to see all around the facility.

“If you get into trouble, I’ll bail you out,” she said. As she’d always said - and done.

Though McCree had never been on a mission with her, he knew her skills were nothing to scoff at. She’d taught him a lot about guns and life, and it helped to calm his nervous thoughts to know that she’d be present.

McCree and Hanzo would take the south side entrance as they’d agreed upon.

“There will be guards,” Jack had said.

“Are we to kill them?” Hanzo asked.

“Probably not,” McCree said.

“I see.”

“I don’t think killing Helix guards is conducive to our efforts, Hanzo,” Jack said with a frown.

“No problem, there are other ways to incapacitate people,” McCree replied.

And it was true. If McCree could grab onto a hypertrain with his mechanical hand to crash in through the window, he could handle a few guards. He was confident in Hanzo’s abilities, too.

Hanzo didn’t talk on the flight, but McCree was content to chat with Ana. There wasn’t much to say that they didn’t already know, and they had a very brief conversation about pineapple on pizza which had bothered the group chat not too long ago.

The night was almost peaceful. McCree inhaled the cool air and stretched. He checked then double-checked the ammo in his gun. Hanzo had a full quiver, and, bizarrely, hadn’t expressed the desire to bring more than twelve arrows with him. Ana had her multipurpose biotic rifle, sleep darts for her sidearm, and biotic grenades. She was well-prepared.

“Stay safe,” was all she’d said before departing for the tallest adjacent building.

It was one of several empty buildings around the Grand Mesa facility, which had been a fairly busy place in its prime. Now, only the main building was active. The other buildings had been scanned prior to the mission and were safe enough for Ana to set up on.

McCree and Hanzo approached the entrance. There were three guards around the corner.

“We shouldn’t do anything stupid. ‘Least, not ‘til Ana’s in position,” McCree said as he adjusted his earpiece.

Hanzo looked agitated. He didn’t say anything.

“It’s only three guards, but...” McCree frowned, scrutinizing them. “Somethin’ about their positioning... seems kinda off. Like what Jack said. But I dunno, maybe it’s just me. We oughta be careful.”

Hanzo tapped McCree on the arm gently, but the expression on his face was cold determination.

“Stay here,” he said.

“What?” McCree asked, confused then horrified.

Hanzo stood and before McCree could grab him, he walked right up to the guards.

“Hanzo!” McCree hissed before cursing to himself. “Dammit, y’ain’t even got anything covering your chest, you idiot.”

But McCree didn’t give himself away just yet, because nobody had shot at Hanzo. He stood up straight, head held high. The stance of a leader who knew of the respect he commanded. Well, this made no goddamn sense. McCree was shocked to see the guards let Hanzo pass.

McCree was at a loss for words, and wasn’t sure if he was meant to follow or not. Hanzo had told him to stay put, but that hadn’t been the mission plan at all.

His earpiece chimed.

“Ana?” he whispered, hopeful for some help or direction.

There was a bit of static or background noise as it was adjusted. It wasn’t Ana; he heard a gruff man’s voice:

“Back so soon?”

Then Hanzo’s reply: “It has only been a few months.”

McCree was frozen to the spot. He recognized that voice.

“Good to see you.”

Gabriel Reyes.

“Likewise.”

A pause.

“He didn’t want to come with you?” Gabriel asked.

For a second, McCree thought Gabriel was talking about him. But Gabriel wouldn’t ask about him in that tone of voice.

“He could not. I am sure you understand.”

“Of course.” But Gabriel sounded disappointed, which was strange enough to shift McCree’s mood from shock to confusion for a moment.

There was another voice that McCree recognized, but this one he couldn’t quite place. He could, however, tell that the speaker’s accent was French.

“Agent Shimada is back?”

“Yeah, right here. You can go back to your nap now,” Gabriel replied.

“Hanzo, what the hell are you doing?” McCree asked, now more angry than scared.

Hanzo didn’t reply. Great. Just great.

McCree got up and pounced the first guard, grabbing them by the neck with his mechanical hand and throwing them to the ground. The other guards were too slow to react. He punched the second one in the face before they could fire, then kicked the third down. He leaned over and added a punch to their face, too. Just in case.

Well, they seemed incapacitated enough. None of them were moving, and McCree didn’t bother checking whether or not they were dead. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He tapped in the passcode and the door opened. Apparently they hadn’t changed it since Jack’s break-in, so it was the same code. Not smart.

There was more conversation in his earpiece. Hanzo had excused himself, it seemed. McCree remembered the planned route for the halls and didn’t need to consult his map to follow it.

He was startled when Hanzo intercepted him in a hallway that was fortunately empty. He hadn’t even heard the approach.

Hanzo was angry.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he snapped.

“Y’ain’t seriously askin’ why I’m in here, are you? We had a plan, Hanzo! What the hell are you doin’?!”

McCree shook his head, frowning because this was a puzzle he didn’t have nearly enough pieces to.

“Why didn’t you tell us you’re a goddamn double agent with Talon? Explain what the fuck you’re up to, or I’ll shoot,” McCree said, pulling out his revolver and pointing it at Hanzo’s forehead.

Hanzo looked more frustrated than threatened. But then there were footsteps, and that got an actual reaction out of him.

“Trust me,” Hanzo hissed, grabbing McCree by the mechanical arm and pulling him around the corner.

The footsteps passed.

Hanzo turned to see McCree reaching for his belt. Hanzo’s eyes flashed and he knocked McCree over with a hard bodycheck, pinning him to the floor. They struggled, but Hanzo managed to straddle McCree and hold him down by the wrists. He loosed some fierce cussing.

More footsteps. Both of them froze, tension thick, breaths mingling. The footsteps passed and they exhaled.

McCree’s fingers tightened around the flashbang.

In that moment of inaction, Hanzo released his left hand from McCree’s wrist, letting go of his hand that held the gun but not one holding the flashbang. Quick as a viper, he whacked McCree’s neck with a strike directly onto his throat. McCree coughed, clutched his neck. He didn’t let go of the gun. Hanzo’s hit didn’t hurt much, but McCree couldn’t help choking.

“Hanzo! Where the hell did you go?”

Gabriel was calling.

“First name basis, huh?” McCree managed to ask between coughs.

Hanzo snatched the flashbang and tucked it into the sash that served as his belt - no, his obi, McCree remembered. There was enough fabric to hold and conceal the item.

“Stay here,” Hanzo said firmly.

McCree could not believe that Hanzo’s face being so close above his own left him tongue-tied. He couldn’t reply with indignance nor his irritation. Goddammit, if Hanzo would just get off of his lap -

Hanzo got up, and McCree sat up before standing. He watched Hanzo leave to tend to Gabriel, to whatever he was asking for. Did Hanzo seriously expect him to stay put just because he asked him to stay? To trust him? It might’ve been funny had McCree not been as mad as he was.

Well, he was inside the facility now. Hanzo had been harder to deal with than the three guards who may very well have been half-asleep for all the challenge they offered. Now he was gone. McCree reoriented himself and continued along his route. He could slip away undetected, not that anyone was going after him.

His earpiece chimed.

“Captain Amari here. I’m in position. I had to move some boxes around. Status report? Over.”

“McCree here, and I’m headin’ along the path I mapped out. Over.”

“Roger, over.”

McCree wondered about security cameras. He knew there were a few outside and in a few of the larger rooms because Jack had told them, but he wasn’t sure if the smaller rooms in the hallway would feature the same security. He’d just have to be careful and hope for the best, then.

The rooms were eerie because they were empty. Some of the hallways were lit, but because the rooms weren’t occupied, they were dark. McCree was forced to look around with the light coming into them from the hallway, and sometimes with the flashlight on his phone. He wasn’t sure how smart it’d be to turn any of the rooms’ lights on.

He had few updates to give to Ana. Why would the place still have guards if it didn’t hold anything worth guarding? He’d planned to check on at least one of the old weapons testing areas along with one of the rooms in which people actually worked on building weapons, but there had to be more to the building than just a bunch of odd guards and pulse rifles.

McCree was starting to get tired of looking through rooms. It’d take him a while to get through the whole facility. He was approaching the end of the hallway. Then he went through another hallway of rooms. And another. None of the doors were locked, likely because few of the rooms contained much of anything. They might’ve been office-like spaces. There was a computer lab - empty. Then... maybe a break room? McCree wondered why a military building would have these rooms, but he never worked at Grand Mesa nor at any other Overwatch weapons facility, so he could hardly guess. They might’ve been for the weapon engineers.

He wondered, idly, where Hanzo was. He didn’t bother asking, and only used his earpiece to continue giving Ana periodic updates. He kept a close eye around him, but it seemed the guards in the facility weren’t concerned with the rooms. Maybe they really didn’t contain anything important, which was why they weren’t even locked. This was starting to feel like a waste of time. But all McCree had to do was remember the guards from outside, how strange they had been in a way he still couldn’t put his finger on, and the interest in his search was renewed.

He almost walked right into a guard. Wait. That wasn’t a guard; they didn’t have the Helix uniform and armour on. It must’ve been a worker, and McCree supposed that should’ve been obvious from the start because they were wearing a rather mundane outfit and were holding a mug. The poor person looked dead tired, and he couldn’t blame them. It was night, after all. Maybe they’d been working for the whole day. They were answering a call on their phone:

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” they said before hanging up and giving a wide yawn. “Goddamn Spencer again with his inability to make decent 3D holo-spreadsheets... I’m so tired.”

They did not turn around to see McCree hanging at the end of the hall, trying not to laugh at Spencer and his apparent inability to make decent 3D holo-spreadsheets.

The worker headed off into the opposite direction, running a hand through their hair and taking a swallow of their drink. McCree waited for them to round the corner before he dipped into the room.

Well, these folders looked like they could be important. McCree looked behind himself, stopped and listened for a while. Quiet, almost disconcertingly so. But Grand Mesa wasn’t busy, so he couldn’t expect it to be like the facilities in the old days. Bustling and sometimes loud. It wasn’t too bad, the quiet. It’d be less unsettling had the circumstances not been what they were, but McCree couldn’t exactly change them to suit his comfort level.

He shut the door behind himself, carefully, and turned his phone’s light on so he could look around. The desk was the only clear item of interest, but there were shelves that might’ve held other papers and books of note.

He wasn’t sure what to make of anything at the moment. He approached the table, and tried to remember. Something about Gabriel’s voice... he’d heard it recently, hadn’t he? Not on a mission related to him, but on the news and from Genji, Genji’s mission, right? The agents didn’t all work on the same topics, of course, but they tried to keep each other in the know. And Genji had been recently pulled to work on... McCree frowned, but it came to him - Talon.

Now he understood. He recognized Gabriel’s voice because it was the voice of Reaper, one of Talon’s agents. Something like that. And the more feminine voice from earlier with the French accent, that had to be Widowmaker, the former Amélie Lacroix who’d taken out Ana’s eye and almost killed her. She’d been mentally reprogrammed and now she worked as a sniper. McCree knew of Talon because of Overwatch, but that didn’t explain why Hanzo was working with them. He supposed it was a bit ironic; his own brother was working _against_ Talon at the moment.

What the hell was in this folder? McCree dropped his floating train of thought to focus on the papers in front of him. He found it odd that somebody had bothered to print these papers out, but there might’ve been a practical reason behind it. Some people preferred reading print, even in 2076, and that was their own quirk. Maybe the worker had printed them out. It certainly helped him out now, because he could see what was being worked on.

“What in tarnation...” McCree muttered.

“Did you find something? Over.” Ana asked.

“Yeah, I’m lookin’ through some papers right now, over.”

The folder held a list of names at the very front. _Helix Security International Employees._ It was a long list, and quite a few had been highlighted in green. McCree stopped counting after thirty that had been highlighted. Under the sheets of names, there were a few rough sketches done in ink. Diagrams, maybe? They were labelled. McCree couldn’t pick anything out from the semi-cursive chicken scratch. He wasn’t entirely sure the notes were in English.

Then there were blueprints. Whatever was on the page bore a resemblance to the sketches. He supposed that many changes had been made, refinements to the machine. It looked like a machine, or a device of sorts. A microchip. McCree couldn’t say for sure.

The room smelled like black coffee.

McCree looked at the sheet underneath, which was a similar blueprint, but labelled clearly. He read through it. It was an implant. Maybe a body modification? Of course, they were commonly used to hold people’s information, like an ID of sorts. That didn’t make sense, though. There was no reason for Talon to be working on technology so old. McCree continued to read, sure that their motives were more interesting than this.

He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not that he was proven right. His blood chilled and he almost loosed some nervous laughter, but he managed to keep himself together. These weren’t arm implants for identification, nor were they for security to let people in and out of a building with special sensors. As far as McCree could tell from the blueprints, they manipulated thoughts. It was far-fetched, but he wouldn’t exactly put it past Talon.

Mind control.

Even if the Helix guards weren’t being taken over completely or changed the way Widowmaker had been changed, this didn’t look good. And it explained, all too well, their odd behaviour.

McCree found some other papers in the folder, but they looked like research notes or maybe an essay. Nothing he had time to peruse now. He closed the folder. After a moment of frustration, he folded it in half lengthwise - it wasn’t easy; the folder was fairly thick - and shoved it in his holster. His gun, of course, went into his hand.

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to hold onto it for his exit.

He wasn’t sure whether or not it’d be good to leave now. Hanzo was still in the building somewhere, but his status as an Overwatch agent was starting to look pretty shaky. He could be left behind, even if McCree didn’t feel right thinking so. It wasn’t as if he was in danger, that much was certain. The longer he stuck around, the more time he was giving Hanzo to give him away. No, that wouldn’t do. Genji would have to understand. It was time to leave.

The door creaked open. In the second it took McCree to turn around, he had his gun drawn and ready to fire.

“Gabriel,” he said.

“Gabriel?” Ana asked in McCree’s earpiece.

Gabriel’s head tilted to the side, inquisitive and perhaps mockingly so, before he retrieved two shotguns. He had his mask on, that barn owl mask of his, but McCree had a feeling he either narrowed his eyes just then or rolled them.

“I can’t believe _you’re_ the intruder Amélie told me about.”

“Well, y’know,” McCree said with a shrug. “I can’t believe I’m intruding, either. I was hoping Genji would be with me. Always thought it’d be cool for us to have a standoff like this with some big bad guy like you.”

“Jesse, who are you talking to?” Ana asked.

“Genji?” Gabriel asked, sounding almost human for a second. Then he shook his head. “You need to leave.”

“I’m guessin’ you’re not about to let me walk outta here quietly?”

“No. You have to die.”

“‘Have to’ is a bit of a strong term, don’t you think, hombre?”

“No.”

“Well, I’ve got a gun too, y’know.”

“Oh, did you think this was some ‘student beats the teacher’ situation? That’s funny. You can’t win against someone who can’t die.”

“Can’t die?” McCree asked, laughing. “I know you know your way ‘round a fight, but that’s a stretch, even for you.”

Gabriel’s body language read exasperation. It seemed he was about to fire back a response when there was a loud thump from outside. McCree looked towards the door. Gabriel didn’t. McCree reacted before Gabriel could when he saw the flashbang flying.

Hanzo, furious, darted into the room to grab McCree by the wrist and yank him out. They could hear Gabriel snarling behind them. It sounded like Gabriel recovered quickly, but Hanzo had his swiftness on his side. He pulled McCree around the hallways. It seemed he knew them very well.

“Mission compromised, over,” McCree said as he let Hanzo lead him. He could only hope that Ana had caught everything.

Hanzo’s grip around his wrist was like iron and he was grateful it was his mechanical arm that Hanzo had grabbed.

“We’re... we’re retreating, over,” McCree added.

_I think._

He had no idea where Hanzo was taking him, but they encountered no guards on their run. Then they were out the door, back out the south side entrance from which they’d entered. The night air was a cold, refreshing slap to the face. Conspicuously enough, the three guards that McCree had attacked were missing.

“I’ll call the ship. Can you two make it to the meeting spot in five? Over.”

“Yeah,” McCree replied. “Over.”

He gripped his gun.

“‘Least, I hope that’s where we’re headed.”

Hanzo was glaring at him.

“You fool,” he said, the words sharp as a knife. “I told you to stay put. I told you _twice_ to stay put, and you did not listen to me. Why did you not listen to me? You could have died. We have to go now. Come.”

“You didn’t explain!” McCree yelled, indignant and remembering his anger as he ran after Hanzo towards the meeting location. “You can’t just... You were talkin’ to Gabriel and Widowmaker like they’re your allies! Shit, I don’t even think I believe you now. That y’ain’t just takin’ me out into this field to shoot me and kill me one on one.”

An alarm blared behind them.

“There was no time. Reyes was calling me. You would not have believed me. I asked you to trust me.”

“And you blame me for not bein’ able to?”

Hanzo didn’t reply, but McCree could read his storm clouds. His golden hair scarf flowed behind him, a slash of bright colour in the dark.

They made it to the ship. Intact, and likely being pursued, but both very much alive. Ana was there to greet them.

“Hurry,” was all she said before McCree and Hanzo stepped in after her.

McCree didn’t make conversation on the flight back to Gibraltar. He had nothing to say. Ana looked tired, and he couldn’t blame her. She’d been sitting in that building for a while, having had to remain vigilant at her post. Hanzo didn’t say anything, but he was fuming in his seat.

McCree wasn’t sure what to think at this point. Hanzo had waltzed right into the Helix-controlled, Talon-controlled building. He’d spoken to Gabriel, a known Talon agent and known member of the general opposition, like they were familiar with each other. Widowmaker had also recognized him and asked about him by name. But while Gabriel had intended to fight McCree to the death, Hanzo came in and... saved him.

The fight had yet to begin, and McCree had a feeling he would’ve been able to hold his own, but he could think of no other way to describe Hanzo’s interference. Hanzo had saved, maybe not his life, but at least some trouble. His other arm, maybe. McCree didn’t want to consider further than that.

He chanced a look over at Hanzo. Still angry. Brows furrowed. Tension in his hands. McCree remembered the way his words had tasted when they’d spoken yesterday night, when Hanzo had pulled him out of the commons, and his face warmed. Hanzo had smiled. He’d given a real, genuine, actual smile. For McCree. After trying, it seemed, to cheer him up. But... now wasn’t the time to think about that.

He closed his eyes. He decided not to tell the others about what had happened at Grand Mesa. If Hanzo had problems to sort out with his loyalties, then he’d sort them out. McCree didn’t want to get into this discussion with the others. He doubted Genji would be happy to hear it. Then he frowned. When he’d mentioned Genji, that had caught Gabriel’s attention. It was probably because he knew of Hanzo and Genji’s relation; Widowmaker had called him ‘Agent Shimada’, so it was likely that they knew. Maybe they’d wanted to use Hanzo against Genji?

Agent Shimada of Talon.

McCree would have to do a lot more thinking before he could decide what to conclude from all of this.

 _Trust me_ , he’d said.

McCree rubbed his wrist where Hanzo had grabbed it. He didn’t feel very trusting, nor did he feel that Hanzo was particularly trustworthy. It had been his own mistake to lower his guard.

 _Trust me_.

It must’ve been a joke.

 

Genji was knitting. McCree wasn’t sure where his balisong was. Probably tucked away in his arm compartment. It seemed the cyborg had rather restless hands lately. There was a bundle of black yarn on his lap, and McCree wasn’t sure what he was trying to make. It looked like a shapeless blob, but he decided not to judge before its completion.

He remembered the old Overwatch days with Genji. He had not been a particularly happy person. Oftentimes, Genji had been consumed by anger and worked out his frustrations by training and sparring. With a sharp pang, McCree had a very sudden and very vivid memory of Genji sparring with Gabriel, blade and shuriken against shotguns.

Well, Gabriel wasn’t dead. But he was with the enemy, which marked him about as good as dead in McCree’s eyes. Worse, really, if he was working against Overwatch as Talon was.

He still felt that it was his duty as an Overwatch agent to tell Jack, Angela, and Winston about Gabriel and Widowmaker. And then about Hanzo. The truth. McCree’s mechanical hand formed a fist. Would that get him anywhere? He could spin a web of lies so convincing that even Gabriel, Gabriel fucking Reyes, master of psychological games, would believe him.

He was tired of the lies, but he didn’t feel this situation warranted a truth either, necessarily.

He had no clear answer with which to satisfy himself.

Genji held his creation up. It looked like a scarf, or maybe the start to a hat. McCree really couldn’t tell. The work looked neat enough, at least. If he kept at it, McCree supposed it would eventually end up being something that could successfully keep its wearer warm.

“Looks great, Genji,” he said. But though he meant the compliment, more or less, his heart wasn’t in it.

Genji set the needles and yarn and blob creation down.

“It could be better,” he admitted. “What is bothering you?”

McCree huffed. “Why d’you assume somethin’s botherin’ me?” he asked.

Genji uncrossed his legs. He was sitting on the blue armchair. It was the same shade of blue as Hanzo’s obi, where Hanzo had tucked the flashbang earlier, and -

“You look upset,” Genji said, interrupting McCree’s train of thought.

“Yeah, well that ain’t your business,” McCree muttered.

His fingers twitched and he yearned to pull a cigar out, but he didn’t have any on him.

“Would you like to talk about the mission, Jesse?”

“No.”

“Did something happen? Did somebody get hurt?”

“No.”

“Was it Hanzo?”

McCree sighed, feeling the weariness of the day soaking into him, digging deep into his bones. He’d turned the folder over to the resident engineers and builders to analyze. Angela had been particularly horrified, and had said something to imply she recognized the handiwork of the person who’d done the sketches, or the blueprint, McCree forgot which. Winston and Torbjörn had been rather intrigued, wondering who would be modifying such old technology. Which was along the lines of McCree’s thoughts as well.

He’d told them, and Jack, about Talon’s presence at Grand Mesa. He’d told them about Reaper and Widowmaker, and that Reaper was Gabriel because Ana had already heard him say the name. Even if he didn’t tell them about Gabriel, Ana would’ve have connected the dots eventually. They knew that Widowmaker was Amélie.

Hanzo had not told them the truth, either. McCree had felt his gaze a few times during the briefing. Maybe wondering if McCree would tell them. Or maybe McCree had only been imagining the prickles on the back of his neck, and Hanzo had really just been disinterested for the whole meeting as he so often was. Looking like he wished he was anywhere else.

He’d encouraged taking the ground entrance because he knew Widowmaker - an expert sniper - might’ve been a sentry on the rooftop watch. Fighting her would’ve been more difficult than fighting the brainwashed Helix guards. It made sense now.

McCree almost forgot that Genji had asked him a question.

_Was it Hanzo?_

“Maybe, but it’s... not important, alright?” McCree replied. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“You should talk about it, if it’s bothering you,” Genji said. “You seemed to be getting along with him fine. I understand that you might’ve had an argument over something stupid, or a fight, but... you cannot be so close that a disagreement at this point in time would make it so you two can no longer get along.”

“C’mon, Genij, it’s not like we _have_ to get along. You don’t even get along with him.”

“Yes I do,” Genji replied simply. “We get along very well nowadays.”

McCree wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or serious. Possibly both.

Then Genji’s head dipped a little, and that was part of his body language for both sadness and amusement. McCree couldn’t tell which it was, but it really could’ve been either.

Genji spoke: “You do not...” Then he shook his head, reconstructed his sentence to make it sound less accusatory. “I do not think you have known him long enough to leave him forever.”

Silence.

McCree balked, confused as to where his train of thought had come from.

“W-what the hell d’you mean, Genji?” he asked. “I know you’re sentimental as hell, but that was...” He frowned. “That was uncalled for.”

“I know,” Genji replied, curt. “Alright, I am not saying you have to be friends with my brother. But whatever has happened between you two on that mission, I do not see why it should result in this... severe a response from you.”

“Well, I ain’t gettin’ into details.”

And he really didn’t want to talk about it. He had some genuine appreciation for what Hanzo had done for him, and the time to throw it away with both hands was not now. Maybe Genji wanted to know, and while McCree trusted him, he wasn’t sure what his admittance would do to the brothers’ relationship. Or did Genji already know about Hanzo? That seemed like a reach.

“Did he hurt you?”

“What? No, God no! In fact, he -” McCree cut himself off.

Genji stared at him, prompting him to continue in his silence.

“...He saved me.”

McCree sighed.

“He saved me, but a lot more happened than... that. I dunno if I’m at liberty to say anythin’ more. I mean, it’s ‘cause he helped me out that I... I wanna give him the benefit of the doubt. For lack of a better way to phrase it.”

“It sounds like you should sort this out with him yourself.”

“I dunno about that, Genji. Can’t say I’m in the mood to talk to him.”

Genji’s knitting needles resumed their clicking together. He didn’t look particularly satisfied with McCree’s answer, but he seemed to get the point. If McCree wasn’t willing to talk, Genji could only pry so far.

“But I guess I’ll think about it,” McCree mumbled.

“That would be ideal, I think. You have to keep in mind that Hanzo is now your co-worker. It would be best if you can tolerate him, seeing as you two will have to work together.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

McCree didn’t sound convinced. Genji knew he wasn’t convinced. And of course, McCree knew that Genji knew. He continued his knitting, and McCree’s fingers rapped against the armrest. Genji didn’t reply, but within their silence, they still managed to have a conversation. They knew each other well enough for their thoughts on the matter to be clear. Genji was aware of McCree having difficulty in trusting others, and could hardly fault him for it.

_I don’t trust him._

The needles clicked. In the tilt of Genji’s head, in the brief moment of him looking up, McCree could sense his unspoken response to the thought.

_I know. But maybe you should try._

 

McCree had drifted off in the commons. With a bit of music playing on his phone, the rhythmic sound of knitting, and his notifications silenced, he had no reason to stay awake. Genji had lowered the volume of whatever TV program he’d been watching. The room had been quiet after their conversation.

When McCree woke up again, Genji was gone. His head hurt a little, and he felt the familiar post-nap grogginess. A quick look at his phone showed about an hour had gone by. It was 2:04 AM.

Lena had messaged him. Probably an animal picture with a humorous caption, which was the content they exchanged in direct messages. He wasn’t in the mood to check, but he noticed another message.

“What in tarnation...”

He didn’t recognize the name of the other person who’d messaged him. Well, that was odd. The agents weren’t allowed to change their names in the chat unless they were a moderator, and everyone just went by their call sign for ease. But nobody’s call sign, name, or alias was ‘Sombra’.

He’d have to see what they had to say. It could’ve been Genji messing with him, as Genji was a moderator. McCree didn’t see why Genji would pick a Spanish word as his name, though. This had to be interesting.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @MCCREE & @SOMBRA --**

**SOMBRA:** hey, i’m supposed to be the one to message you.

 **SOMBRA:** i don’t know why they thought i should do it.

 **SOMBRA:** maybe because i’m the one who figured out how to access your little chat program?

 **SOMBRA:** well, here i am.

 **SOMBRA:** courtesy of talon.

 **SOMBRA:** you stole some documents from us, but of course, you already know that.

 **SOMBRA:** gabe was there, which i’m sure you remember.

 **SOMBRA:** he’s not sure how you escaped.

 **SOMBRA:** he suspects hanzo, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions.

 **SOMBRA:**  i suspect hanzo, if that helps your nerves.

 **SOMBRA:** you know he works for us, right?

 **SOMBRA:** he’s proven his loyalty to talon, and gabe has faith in him.

 **SOMBRA:** at least, he doesn’t have enough mistrust in him to condemn him so soon.

 **SOMBRA:** i think it’d be easier if he just killed hanzo, but alright, even i have to admit he’s been helpful.

 **SOMBRA:** he’s the only one of us amélie can stand for extended periods of time, so that’s something.

 **SOMBRA:** it’s you that gabe’s mad at.

 **SOMBRA:** and of course it would be you. i doubt you’re even surprised.

 **SOMBRA:** but it’s fair, too. you’re the one who took the folder, so you also get to take the blame.

 **SOMBRA:** and now, you get to take the heat.

 **SOMBRA:** in case my DMs don’t get the point across, we have your location.

 **SOMBRA:** hey, maybe we’re even watching you right now.

 **SOMBRA:** gabe’s been to gibraltar already. he fought that scientist of yours.

 **SOMBRA:** as if he could forget gibraltar, right?

 **SOMBRA:** not for its history, not for its current state.

 **SOMBRA:** it would be fun to hunt you down.

 **SOMBRA:** of course, you can do what you want with our threats.

 **SOMBRA:** and don’t worry, we aren’t after the rest of overwatch.

 **SOMBRA:** gabe is, but he understands there’s a time and place for his personal quest for vengeance.

 **SOMBRA:** i think he knows that neither of the shimadas would be happy if he tried to kill the rest of you.

 **SOMBRA:** maybe this was too big an information dump. oh well.

 **SOMBRA:** you can figure it out, right?

 **SOMBRA:** one of the others could’ve done this in just a few words, but i’m bored.

 **SOMBRA:** gabe won’t shut up about how he takes his coffee, and about his boyfriend.

 **SOMBRA:** like, we get it.

 **SOMBRA:** you like coffee with milk and you love your boyfriend. do we really need to get the details?

 **SOMBRA:** i think he’s heading to starbucks, so i can wrap this up.

 **SOMBRA:** would it sound serious enough if i just told you we’re after you?

 **SOMBRA:** that sums up the situation.

 **SOMBRA:** you know too much, but honestly? that’s not the bigger issue here.

 **SOMBRA:** see, what’s really ticked gabe off is that you also got away with it.

 **SOMBRA:** as far as he’s concerned, you should be dead. you in particular.

 **SOMBRA:** you’re still alive, but that can change.

 **SOMBRA:** he wants you to regret your stupid decisions.

 **SOMBRA:** oh, and tell him we said hello.

 **SOMBRA:** both of them.

 **SOMBRA:** sincerely, gabe. and myself, really.

 **SOMBRA:** see you soon, jesse mccree. nice chat.

“What the hell?” McCree asked out loud, staring at his phone.

He scrolled back up, reread the messages from top to bottom. Then he set his phone back onto his lap, and tried to process the words. He did his best to ignore the cold fear spreading inside of him, but it was difficult, all things considered. It wasn’t that he was particularly afraid of Gabriel, but Talon as a whole... he didn’t want to have to contend with them. He didn’t want his presence at Gibraltar to jeopardize the others’ safety. He didn’t want to become a liability.

What was he to do about it?

A part of him didn’t believe this threat was sound. If Gabriel had wanted him dead, McCree would’ve known. He’d always had a flair for drama. It was one of the things about him that had been an inconvenience at times, but admittedly entertaining. This was a level of secrecy from him that McCree found alien. Then again, it had been years. Gabriel had changed. Of course he had.

He laughed, mirthless. Gabriel was still human. But only just. He was a smoking dust cloud, but a human dust cloud nonetheless. He’d reacted and showed emotion and desired vengeance like any other person might.

McCree’s right hand had drifted to his gun, but he didn’t grab it. It was late. He couldn’t focus on Sombra’s cryptic texts; he didn’t even know who they were. They’d plague him, without a doubt. He frowned. It was Hanzo who was bothering him more. Though Hanzo certainly hadn’t issued a direct threat to his life, his presence was more immediate. It felt more personal, despite the fact that McCree had known Gabriel for so long. But as far as he could tell, Gabriel wasn’t here now.

Hanzo was.

McCree washed up, finished his nighttime routine in his bedroom. He stared at the ceiling in the dark, then the backs of his eyelids. Sleep eluded him for a restless hour. His phone buzzed. Was it the Sombra person again? He muttered a soft curse, and replied to Lena’s messages of cats from hours ago before checking the more recent message. He told her that the pictures were hilarious, because they were. He could always appreciate a good image macro, and so could Lena, which was why they shared them with each other. It helped to lighten the mood when either one of them wasn’t feeling well.

Then he checked the new message.

It was from Hanzo.

McCree huffed. He didn’t want to reply. He felt a bit of surprise that Hanzo was messaging him, and an undeniable twinge of excitement, but he didn’t want to reply. He looked at it anyway.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @HANZO & @MCCREE --**

**HANZO:** We should talk.

Was that all he had to say? It was 3:51 in the morning. What was Hanzo expecting, with McCree half-asleep? A deep conversation? Genji had alluded to Hanzo being somewhat nocturnal, but this was a bit silly. McCree would’ve found it inconsiderate, though to be fair, he’d stayed up late watching cooking shows with Hanzo and Angela.

Against his better instincts, he found himself replying.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @HANZO & @MCCREE --**

**MCCREE:** aint got a damn thing to say to you

 **HANZO:** Has she sent you the message.

 **MCCREE:** she??

 **MCCREE:** whos she

 **HANZO:** Do not play dumb with me cowboy.

 **MCCREE:** well i did get a message

McCree bit his lip. Stupid fast texting and hitting enter too soon. It was bad enough that he’d allowed the conversation to start, worse still that he was divulging this information. But it was also possible that Hanzo could tell him more. It wasn’t as if he knew much about Talon himself. McCree made a mental note to ask Genji and the others about it.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @HANZO & @MCCREE --**

**HANZO:** From whom.

 **MCCREE:** somebody who goes by sombra

 **HANZO:** So she did message you.

 **MCCREE:** and of course youd know

 **HANZO:** Of course.

 **MCCREE:** care to explain

 **MCCREE:** ive half a mind to either tell the others about who you really are

 **MCCREE:** or just kill you myself

 **HANZO:** You would not.

 **MCCREE:** heh

 **MCCREE:** really?

 **MCCREE:** you dont think id pull the trigger?

 **MCCREE:** like i havent killed people before

He was almost insulted.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @HANZO & @MCCREE --**

**HANZO:** No I do believe that you would shoot me.

 **MCCREE:** oh

Well, that caught him off guard.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @HANZO & @MCCREE --**

**HANZO:** But I do not believe you would tell the others.

 **MCCREE:** and why the fuck not

 **HANZO:** You would not want to disappoint Genji in such a way.

 **MCCREE:** yeah right

 **HANZO:** And for some reason you still trust me.

 **MCCREE:** alright now youre just talkin shit for fun

 **MCCREE:**  what the hell do you want from me hanzo

 **HANZO:** I wanted to talk to you.

 **MCCREE:** well then talk

 **MCCREE:** i should be sleepin but here i am

 **HANZO:** Here you are.

 **MCCREE:** yeah

 **MCCREE:** make it fast

 **HANZO:** May I ask you a question.

 **MCCREE:** go for it

 **HANZO:** Why are you still here.

 **MCCREE:** thats rude

 **HANZO:** In the facility.

 **HANZO:** She has made it clear that Reyes wants your life and has your location.

 **HANZO:** You do not seem to understand the gravity of the situation.

 **HANZO:** Or perhaps you do not value your life as I assumed you did.

 **HANZO:** At least that was what I assumed seeing you face off with Reyes.

 **HANZO:** Only a complete idiot would fight him.

 **MCCREE:** hey i aint no fool

 **MCCREE:** not when it comes to gabriel

 **HANZO:** Is that so.

 **MCCREE:** alright well hes still human aint he

 **MCCREE:** i dunno how serious he was about the ‘cant die’ thing

 **MCCREE:** but i figured if i could put enough bullets in his skull

 **MCCREE:** hed still die

 **MCCREE:** if i could shoot him i could incapacitate him

 **HANZO:** You are not necessarily incorrect.

 **MCCREE:** whats with the double negative

 **MCCREE:** this conversation aint dramatic enough for ya?

 **HANZO:** What is with your contractions.

 **MCCREE:** hey least i use question marks and commas

 **MCCREE:** goddamn hanzo

McCree almost laughed, but he didn’t.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @HANZO & @MCCREE --**

**MCCREE:** anyway i dont forgive you

 **MCCREE:** i mean

 **MCCREE:** i dont trust you

 **MCCREE:** you still havent explained everything about yourself

 **MCCREE:** why the hell does talon trust you

 **MCCREE:** sombra called you loyal to them

 **MCCREE:** youre on a first name basis with gabriel

 **MCCREE:** widowmaker knows who you are

 **MCCREE:** hell sombra said youre the only one that widow can stand

 **MCCREE:** so whats that about

 **HANZO:** I am trying to keep you alive.

 **MCCREE:** what

 **HANZO:** All of you.

 **HANZO:** Overwatch.

 **MCCREE:** ...

 **MCCREE:** what

 **HANZO:** This plan was not by my design it was Genji’s.

 **HANZO:** You are aware he is Reyes’ lover.

 **MCCREE:** alright do not call him that again

 **MCCREE:** “lover” christ

 **MCCREE:** and no what the fuck

 **MCCREE:** what

 **MCCREE:** what since fucking when

 **MCCREE:** i know a ton of crap about genji but i didnt know that

 **HANZO:** You were not meant to.

 **HANZO:** Nobody was.

 **HANZO:** That is how secrets work.

 **MCCREE:** very funny

 **HANZO:** His feelings are genuine I will not fault him for that.

 **HANZO:** But it is from this connection that he realized he could keep everyone safe.

 **HANZO:** And he told me to join Talon.

 **HANZO:** If I could gain their trust from within then perhaps they would focus on other matters.

 **HANZO:** I think Genji is being too sentimental but I could not deny him this.

 **MCCREE:** howd you prove your loyalty

 **HANZO:** There are always people whom others want dead, Jesse.

There was a comma, which was notable enough on its own, but that was also easily the most chilling statement that Hanzo had delivered to him yet. Of course Hanzo had been an assassin, a mercenary. McCree was hardly surprised, because hadn’t Genji told him so? He was not reassured by this turn of events, though it made sense in a roundabout way that his life was saved by Genji. No, he supposed he had to give Hanzo some credit. It would’ve been easier, in many ways, for Hanzo to stay by Talon’s side instead of listening to Genji. McCree allowed himself a space in his heart to feel some thankfulness. But only a little bit.

Still, his trust had been fractured. He didn’t take that lightly. It had only been one night of misunderstandings and lack of information, but one night of mistakes was more than enough to make him wary. Hanzo could be lying right now. McCree intended to tread carefully. At least he could drop the open hostility; it was exhausting to hold so much anger.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @HANZO & @MCCREE --**

**MCCREE:** so they want me dead

 **MCCREE:** and only me

 **HANZO:** At the moment yes.

 **HANZO:** I will not be so rash as to guarantee the future safety of everyone.

 **HANZO:** But Talon has more than Overwatch on its radar so to speak.

 **MCCREE:** right well

 **MCCREE:** guess me dying is current priority

 **MCCREE:**  least for gabriel

 **HANZO:** Correct.

 **MCCREE:** how do i know youre not lyin

 **HANZO:** Why would I lie to you.

McCree chuckled out loud. Why indeed? But Hanzo wasn’t done typing, and what he had to say cut McCree’s laugh short.

**\-- DIRECT MESSAGES: @HANZO & @MCCREE --**

**HANZO:** Sombra has already figured out how to infiltrate this chat.

 **HANZO:** It was something that had given her some trouble.

 **HANZO:** But she can observe it at will now.

 **HANZO:** I understand that you do not trust me.

 **HANZO:** But understand that to tell you all of this they will know the truth about my loyalties.

 **HANZO:** They will not hate me as much as they hate you simply because Reyes remains furious with you.

 **HANZO:** Though they will not be happy with me.

 **MCCREE:** why didnt you just tell me in person

 **HANZO:** They may very well be listening anyway.

 **HANZO:** It would do you well not to underestimate Talon.

 **MCCREE:** then why bother tellin me at all

 **HANZO:** After tonight I thought you deserved to know.

 **HANZO:** It seems to surprise you that I have respect for you as a person.

 **HANZO:** I apologize for taking so much of your time.

 **HANZO:** Think on that, Jesse.

 **HANZO:** Good night.

McCree just barely got out a ‘good night’ in reply before Hanzo went offline. He felt disappointment clutch at his chest, and didn’t understand why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \\\ [ @genjiknitting](http://genjiknitting.tumblr.com) is a lovely parody blog for my blog [@genjisitting](http://genjisitting.tumblr.com) which is just genji sitting screencaps. but genji knitting has a variety of other content including adorable genji knitting headcanons and overwatch posts please follow them
> 
> [some more](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/155600878891/ghostalebrije-fooling-around-with-shapes-and) [really great](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/155545251366/crowbi-thanks-to-hawkefeathers-for-helping) [mchanzo art](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/155089771701/gunnslaughter) [for you](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/154900557816/saraduvall-let-jesse-mccree-be-cozy-and-loved) [to enjoy](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/154785777336/francisxie-the-robo-hand-was-on-the-wrong-side-so) [appreciate](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/153776662701/doublearrows-i-saw-this-and-knew-i-had-to-draw) [and look at](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/153776446686/duskcry-some-pink-mchanzo-doodles)


	5. if we do not falter, we will survive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've had this one written for a while but i'm just slow at updating .. a lot of stuff going on. college apps. CNY event. etcetera.
> 
> best of luck with loot boxes, and [happy early valentine's day!](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/156598828606/overwatch-valentines-day-cards-getting-them-done) i know i fucked up the binary on bastion's. i can't fix it now. it's tens of thousands of notes too late. //

Hanzo had not left McCree’s thoughts.

On the bright side, he had a few days of rest before the return to Deadlock Gorge. He’d have Lena and Genji with him, which would help the affair be a lot more tolerable. Still, a few days wasn’t much in the way of rest. He would’ve liked to take a month to recover from Grand Mesa, but he didn’t argue with the schedule. Jack wouldn’t hear it.

Three days was better than nothing, even though it was more time for paranoia to claw at him. He’d yet to tell anyone about Talon’s message. It was still on his list of recent direct messages, and he checked on it sometimes. As if it could disappear. As if it was really just a figment of his imagination. But no - it was still there.

He’d avoided Hanzo to a degree of success. To be fair, it wasn’t difficult to avoid Hanzo. The man didn’t exactly go out of his way to be around the base. If he was out and about, he was probably with Genji and occasionally with Angela. McCree simply stayed away from the virtual shooting range and, to a lesser extent, the regular shooting room.

Winston had been nice enough to replace the dummies without reprimanding Hanzo, but as far as McCree had heard, Hanzo had paid for them anyway. How generous. McCree had gone in to practice at one point. He didn’t shoot at the moving dummies. It was weird how the single memory with Hanzo plagued him so, but shooting practice didn’t tend to involve great blue glowing spirit dragons. He could see them sometimes, when he closed his eyes. They would be difficult to forget, that much was certain.

He was sitting on the rock that Genji used to meditate. It was already twilight. He’d spent most of the day in the rec room, playing Hotline Miami so he didn’t have to think too much about anything. The game got frustrating, but at least it had been a good distraction. Now he was outside in the chill, sitting on a rock.

The deep blue of night was encroaching on the sun’s ebbing rays. McCree looked up, and he could already see a few stars. It was shaping up to be a beautiful night, though he didn’t feel it. All he could feel was the chill in the air.

Footsteps. A hunter’s tread.

Or maybe a predator’s.

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” he said, watching the distant waves of the sea ripple and shift.

“I did not expect for anyone to be present.”

McCree turned to see Hanzo looking at him, looking vexed.

“Ain’t like these rocks are outta the way of the facility or anythin’.”

“I know. But I have yet to see anyone spend their time here.”

“Come sit,” McCree said before he could stop himself.

Hanzo’s hesitation was palpable, but he sat down.

They were quiet for a while.

“Talon is doing some terrible things,” McCree said.

“I know.”

“We oughta fight ‘em or somethin’.”

“It would be difficult, with our numbers.”

“But what about our skill?”

Hanzo looked down as the tide pulled away, then he looked back up at the horizon’s fading gold.

“We would have a chance, I suppose. We would not be able to eradicate Talon, but our efforts would certainly not be in vain.”

“You make it sound like we’d all get ourselves killed tryin’ to fight.”

“I do not doubt that our numbers would be dwindling afterwards.”

“We can’t just let ‘em do what they want to the Helix guards... who knows what else they’ve got up their sleeve?”

“I do,” Hanzo said quietly.

“Then what?”

Hanzo closed his eyes.

“They are working on perfecting the technology. If they manage that, though it would certainly not be a simple matter, then they will capture whoever they like. This would not be simple either, though it is a part of their long-term plans. People in power. People who are of use to them.” He turned to McCree. His expression was serious. The look in his eyes - intense. “People with skill, who can do things like shoot a gun very well.”

McCree’s face warmed. He supposed he was being paid a compliment, though in a rather grim fashion.

“You think they’d go after the Overwatch agents?”

“It is a possibility.”

“But, until they perfect the chip...”

Hanzo did not smile, but there was a dark humour in his voice as he replied, “Then to them, we are better off dead.”

 

After a quick dinner with Genji and Lena, McCree had a meeting with them. It was strange without Jack’s presence, as Jack was present at most meetings, but he was sure they’d manage on their own. They’d brought snacks and that small bit of teamwork made the meeting feel more official and put together. Genji brought cookies and Lena had made lemonade. McCree’s offering to the table was a bag of roasted almonds. It might’ve been his or Fareeha’s; they shared their almond stash.

“I think we brought a li’l too much,” McCree said. “Genji can’t eat.”

“I was not aware,” Genji said. Sarcastic, though not bitingly so.

“We can worry about leftovers after,” Lena said, taking a cookie. “Now start talking, before we get too off-topic.”

“Good idea,” McCree said. He pulled his phone out to project the pictures he’d taken of the Gorge. “Sorry I don’t have a holo-map, we didn’t bring a scanner.”

He spread the pictures so he could show the whole gallery. Photos were the best he could do to give the others a feel for Deadlock Gorge, a place neither Lena nor Genji had ever been.

“We’ve got Google Maps, but you can’t see much off the main road. I don’t think it’s been updated in a year, anyway,” McCree said as he organized the images. He pulled up the cluster of photos of the diner. “We were dropped off ‘round here. All the buildings were abandoned, like I’ve already told y’all.”

He showed them the broken and abandoned bridge with the train car hanging off, then detailed the road and the buildings that stood by it. He talked about the desert, but he remembered the nightmare he’d had with Hanzo in it, and his words tapered off.

“Jesse,” Genji said.

“Huh?”

“You seem distracted.”

“Oh, sorry. I was just rememberin’ stuff about the Gorge. Uh... for whatever reason, the Gang left some guns behind. Not all of ‘em still work, but it’s suspicious.”

He pulled up a photo of a gun.

“They’re all the same model. Nothin’ too fancy. Similar to Jack’s pulse rifle in make, but it doesn’t use pulse rounds.”

They talked a bit more about strategy and stealth tactics, along with their abilities and weapons they had at their disposal, but McCree’s heart wasn’t in it. He’d be sticking with his trusty six shooter and non-lethal flashbangs. Bringing the flashbangs up didn’t help his mood, because all it did was remind him that Hanzo had used his flashbang - the one McCree had been planning to throw at him, no less. And he’d used it to distract Gabriel long enough for them to make their escape. There wasn’t anything else McCree felt would be of much use to him, though he was aware the Gibraltar weapons storage contained interesting tools. The other agents practiced with them sometimes.

“I think that wraps it up,” Lena said.

“Yes. It seems we are prepared,” Genji said. “I will be going to bed now.”

“Me too. I’m so tired. Night, loves!”

“G’night,” McCree called as Lena hopped out.

Genji watched her go, then turned to McCree. He’d put his mask back on, but in his body language, as always, he showed a thousand words and thoughts. McCree couldn’t read all of them, and he had a feeling he was projecting a bit, but Genji didn’t voice any of his thoughts before leaving.

McCree sighed to nobody, and didn’t get up for another five minutes.

He wasn’t tired enough for bed and it was too early for him to sleep, being 10:28, but he’d already eaten and now had nothing to do. He supposed it wouldn’t be a bad idea to retreat to his room and watch videos until it was time to sleep, or to work on his half-complete Elder Scrolls run, but he wasn’t in the mood for it.

He ended up in the rec room anyway. There was always something to do on the base’s fancy computers that he couldn’t do on his own laptop, which was sitting in his room somewhere. It couldn’t even project a full 8640p 3D holovid, so he didn’t use it often.

Hanzo was already there. McCree was tempted to leave, but Hanzo had noticed him and nodded hello before returning to his game.

McCree could’ve made an excuse. He could’ve said he was looking for Genji. He could’ve just turned around and walked away. He didn’t. He saw what Hanzo was playing, and sat down next to him before booting up the computer.

“Walkway, really?” McCree asked, unable to keep himself from smiling.

“It is the only good training map,” Hanzo said, firing at bots.

“Yeah, after the recent patch, I s’pose. Anyway, uh... why’re you here?”

“There was nowhere else to go.”

“Tired of shootin’?”

Hanzo frowned, but didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “I refuse to stay in the practice range all day, Jesse,” he replied.

“Alright, I guess we all need hobbies.”

Though McCree had to admit, it had been unexpected that Hanzo’s hobby would be gaming. Maybe it should’ve been more obvious, because Genji was enthusiastic on the matter. When he wasn’t doing things like knitting, of course. McCree found himself wondering what else Hanzo did for fun.

“So... video games. Those are fun.”

Smooth.

“Yes,” Hanzo said. “I have more spare time now that I am not travelling.”

“Yeah, can’t even sleep when I’m out. Too many threats, y’know? Gibraltar’s nice. It’s safe.”

“Safe,” Hanzo repeated softly.

“Uh... about as safe as things can be, for people like us.”

“Which of your possessions do you value, Jesse?”

McCree laughed, uneasy. “What d’you mean, Hanzo?” he asked.

“I meant what I asked.”

“Well, let’s see. My gun. My grenades. My hat.”

“Is that all?”

“My left arm, if that counts. My bullets.”

“Most of these items are weapons.”

“I guess my phone’s pretty important, too. Oh, and my serape.”

“And... that is it?”

Hanzo wasn’t facing McCree. He was facing the screen, but his expression was dead serious. McCree stared at him, confused as to why Hanzo was asking.

“Can’t say I’ve given it much thought. Not for a while.”

“I see.”

McCree sighed, relaxed into his seat. “There really ain’t much more to it than that, y’know. Long as I got my weapons and the clothes on my back, I’m good to go. Pick up cigars wherever I can. Dunno why you look like this is shocking information, Hanzo.”

“I assumed the list was longer, that is all.”

“I spent a lot of time layin’ low,” McCree said with a half-hearted shrug. “Learned not to get attached to stuff. It was more important that I kept my gun with me than anythin’ else, really.”

Hanzo nodded once.

McCree was about to ask Hanzo which material possessions that he personally valued, but Hanzo turned to face him and the words lodged themselves into his throat. He felt an involuntary blush creep onto his cheeks.

“Somethin’ the matter?” he managed to ask.

Hanzo’s eyes were deep, dark brown. He had the most beautiful eyes. It was still difficult for McCree to guess what he was thinking, but it was getting a little easier. Hanzo seemed as if he was in very deep thought. He broke eye contact, and his head tipped down so he faced McCree’s chest.

McCree didn’t notice Hanzo’s hand until it was on his throat. A shiver went up his spine, and he willed himself not to pull away. He swallowed hard, wondering if he was about to be choked.

“Hanzo?” he asked.

Hanzo’s thumb ghosted over McCree’s racing pulse. It tickled.

“I apologize for striking you,” he said quietly.

“Pardon?”

“At Grand Mesa. When you were on the floor, I hit your neck.”

McCree could hardly pick the memory out from his jumble of thoughts. But of course, he hadn’t forgotten. Hanzo had whacked his neck to force him to let go of his flashbang.

“Water under the bridge,” McCree said, because his anger was escaping him now.

After all, Hanzo had used that flashbang to save his sorry ass. And now his fingertips were on McCree’s neck. McCree could feel their warm press. It felt good.

“I’m sorry,” Hanzo said.

“It’s alright, Hanzo. You... did what you had to do.”

“It was uncalled for.”

McCree smiled. “Well yeah, you hit pretty hard. But I’m still alive, aren’t I?” he asked.

“Yes. You are still alive.”

McCree couldn’t move. Hanzo’s hand was still on his neck, and he was tracing small, idle circles with his thumb. It was growing very intimate and McCree was extremely worried, because Hanzo wasn’t exactly a touchy-feely person. McCree had seen him lean away from Genji’s touch, even if it was just a pat on the shoulder, and Genji was the person whom Hanzo was closest to. But now he was sitting right beside McCree, rubbing his neck gently.

“I should not have asked you to trust me,” Hanzo said, sounding very tired. “I spoke to Genji. I... understand why it was difficult for you to take my word at face value.”

McCree wanted to reach his own hand out towards Hanzo, maybe to pet his back, or his head. To pull him closer. To give him reassurance that he couldn’t put into words. But he was afraid if he touched Hanzo, he’d realize their close proximity and pull away.

“Hey, we’re a team. We’ll do better next time.”

“We will have to.”

“I know it ain’t easy for me to trust others, and I’d really like some warnin’ next time. Y’know, if you ever pull somethin’ off like that again. ‘Cause I didn’t expect it, so I’d like to be prepared, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“But you got us out, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I promised Genji I would keep you both alive.”

McCree chuckled. Of course the brothers would make such an agreement.

“And you will be on your next mission soon,” Hanzo said. The circle he was tracing on McCree’s neck slowed.

“Yeah, we’re headin’ back to New Mexico.”

“Genji will be with you.”

“Yup, haven’t been on a mission with him in months. We work well together, Genji and Blackwatch.”

“Please watch over him.”

“Huh?” McCree asked, frowning.

“I know he can take care of himself, but...” Hanzo shook his head, his thumb on McCree’s neck stilling. “I cannot help but worry. Please watch over him on your mission.”

“I- yeah, of course, Hanzo,” McCree said. “We’ll keep each other alive.”

“I...” Hanzo shook his head again. “I could not bear it if he was hurt. I have hurt him enough.”

“Hey, c’mon. Don’t be like that, now. You know Genji forgives you.”

McCree could practically feel Hanzo’s anger coming off of him in waves. He didn’t sound sad, but he did sound regretful. His hand was still on McCree’s neck.

“Hanzo. Look at me.”

Hanzo looked up, and McCree was not prepared for the fire in his eyes. But he had to speak.

“We’ll be fine. I promise. Shit happens, but it won’t be your fault. I’m really sorry if it sounds harsh, darlin’, but you gotta work at movin’ on. If Genji can forgive you for hurtin’ him, you gotta forgive yourself. I mean, I didn’t get it at first, why he forgave you, but... after meetin’ you, I understand. And I forgive you, too, ‘cause we gotta learn to work together, okay?”

Hanzo didn’t look away, but the look in his eyes was different now. McCree wondered if he was going to get punched, and he supposed it was entirely possible, though it didn’t stop him from talking.

“It’s not like either one of us is gonna take Talon down alone, anyway. It was fuckin’ cocky of you to say that I trust you, but... hell, y’ain’t wrong. I _do_ trust you.”

McCree felt Hanzo’s hand slide up from his neck to the side of his face. He wasn’t done yet, and took a deep breath.

“So it’d be real nice if you could trust m-”

Hanzo kissed him.

The end of McCree’s sentence went unsaid. He almost choked from surprise. But then he felt like he was glowing. Hanzo was warm. His lips were warm. His hand went to the back of McCree’s head to press him closer, and McCree shifted forward until he was almost sitting on Hanzo’s lap. They parted for a moment, both gasping for a quick breath before their lips pressed together again.

McCree’s thoughts were a mess and his heart was thrashing in his chest. He’d told himself repeatedly that he didn’t want Hanzo, but now, ensnared, he couldn’t bring himself to back up nor let go. He felt Hanzo’s tongue swipe over his own and groaned.

It was almost comical how much he was enjoying himself.

“Fuck,” McCree whispered.

His arm went around Hanzo’s torso. He stopped questioning how or why this was happening. All he could process was that he could taste Hanzo, and he wanted more. He brought his other hand up to Hanzo’s ponytail and yanked his hair ribbon free. He ran his fingers through Hanzo’s hair, holding back a whine as Hanzo bit his lower lip.

Then Hanzo pulled back. They were both panting, faces flushed deep red.

“Holy shit,” McCree said, eyes wide. “Holy _shit_ , Hanzo Shimada.”

Hanzo brushed McCree’s hair out of his face the way that McCree had wanted to do for Hanzo days ago. It was a surprisingly tender gesture.

“You kiss like the goddamn devil. Where the hell did that come from?”

Hanzo took a deep breath. “I have wanted to do that for some time now,” he said.

“What? Really?”

“Did you think I would spend so much free time with you if I did not like you?”

McCree blushed. “I mean, I sought you out a few times, didn’t I?” he asked.

“Yes. That is true. But I allowed you to do so.”

Hanzo exhaled, and relaxed. McCree swore his heart stopped for a moment as Hanzo rested his head on his shoulder, breathing in deep against his neck.

_Hey, Genji. Remember when you asked if I was ‘courting’ your brother? Well it turns out, he was courting me. This whole time. I think. I’m not really sure, ‘cause I didn’t notice. He’s got a thing for subtlety, y’know, not like you._

It was uncomfortable for McCree to be sitting so still, but he didn’t want to disturb Hanzo.

“You have been interesting, Jesse.”

“Interesting? How?” McCree asked, chuckling.

“Well, when we first met, all you did was stare at my chest,” Hanzo said, making McCree blush. “And I did not expect you to be so bold. It was not my intention to make friends with any of Overwatch. We would all be coworkers, no more than that. Angela has been kind, but you... you are different.”

_He told me he wanted me to protect you. I mean, we both know you can protect yourself. I think he just needed to hear me say it, though, that I’d watch over you. But, let’s be honest, you’ll be the one watchin’ over me, don’t you think? I still told him I would, though. ‘Course I did. And I meant it, too._

“I had an aversion to making friends here, I will admit it. Genji has made fun of me many times for being antisocial, especially in our youth. You have to understand, our father was strict. I had many expectations placed upon myself, whereas he was more lax with Genji.”

_He was talkin’ to me about stuff, and I was listening. Really, I was, I swear I caught every word. But it wasn’t easy, listenin’, ‘cause I kept getting distracted by him. Y’see, he put his head on my shoulder. He hasn’t really been this close to me before today. But I don’t think I mind, Genji. It felt... right. Even after all the shit we’ve both been through, put each other through, it felt right._

“Spending time with you, even at the cafeteria for meals... Talking to you... I realized, I wanted to get to know you better. And to talk to you more, and spend more time with you. And see you smile again. When you told me about your dream, I was immediately intrigued. I also thought it was possible you were interested in talking to me, as well.”

“I was,” McCree blurted. “Am. I mean, I am. I dunno why that dream was so dark, but I mean, I’ve had my fair share of thoughts about you.”

“You kissed my hand. After I yelled at Counter-Strike, you took my hand in yours, and you kissed the back of it. I was shocked. I had assumed my less than warm demeanour would discourage such forwardness, and yet...”

Hanzo’s lips pressed against McCree’s neck, and he groaned softly.

“I enjoyed it,” Hanzo said. “I am not sure if I showed it so, but I enjoyed it. And I surprised myself by thinking that I would have liked for you to do it again. At the shooting range, I called upon my spirit dragons. I wanted to impress you.”

McCree laughed. “Well, you sure as hell accomplished that. Be impossible not to notice you after that,” he said, brushing a strand of hair off of Hanzo’s face.

“Do you remember, the night you were not feeling well? Miss Amari had given you the ‘reality talk’, as Genji had done for myself.”

“Yeah, you pulled me out into the hallway even though we were mid-episode watchin’ Chopped,” McCree said, feeling himself blush again because how could he forget that night?

“I told you I would not be as easy as Genji.”

“You did, darlin’.”

Hanzo’s head lifted off of McCree’s shoulder, and he took the time to straighten his position. Hanzo’s eyes, his pretty brown eyes. McCree felt Hanzo’s gaze pierce his soul, sift through his thoughts for his secrets and desires. He was beautiful, and McCree swallowed hard.

“I like you very much, Jesse McCree.”

McCree blinked. Hanzo’s words repeated themselves in his head.

_I like you very much, Jesse McCree._

Holy cow.

Holy shit.

“I cannot deny that I am attracted to you. I feel that Genji would have told you sooner or later, and that is why I am telling you now. I would rather you hear it from myself than have you speculate and wonder about what my brother would have to say on the matter.”

“He’s been teasin’ me for a long while now, y’know. Even Angie talked to me about it. Apparently it’s been obvious to them.”

“Obvious?”

“That I like you.”

“You do?” Hanzo asked.

And in that moment, McCree realized just how vulnerable he was making himself right now by talking about his thoughts and feelings. This was the most exposed Hanzo had ever been for him, and McCree felt as if he’d been given something truly precious. As if the beseeching look in Hanzo's eyes wasn’t precious enough.

“Yeah,” McCree said, smiling. “I do. I like you a lot, Hanzo. Genji and Angie sure as hell noticed before I accepted it, but... that’s how it is sometimes. They’re awful perceptive, and I ain’t big on romance these days.”

“Neither am I.”

McCree laughed. “‘Course you ain’t. Had you pegged for the stoic, silent loner type. Is that why Gabriel tolerates you?” he asked, flicking the bit of hair dangling over Hanzo’s face.

Hanzo frowned. “Reyes?” he asked. “I think Talon simply appreciated the work I did, not myself as a person.”

“Well, that’s in the past now. I know I appreciate who you are as a person. Though I gotta say, I’ve got no idea why you’re so taken with me. I’ve hardly gotten the chance to charm you at all.”

Hanzo gave him a look. Then he took McCree’s face in both his hands.

“Jesse, you are a person of worth and value,” he said forcefully.

The words almost sounded as if they’d been rehearsed. As if Hanzo had thought them many times over. And if McCree was to guess, Hanzo had told himself those same words in the potentially vain attempt to convince himself that those words were true.

“Thank you, darlin’,” McCree said, his heart fluttering. Not just because Hanzo had taken hold of him again, but because his words had meant than McCree could’ve guessed they would.

McCree leaned in, and Hanzo met him in the middle. Their kiss was sweet, more chaste than before.

_So, Genji, I kissed your brother. You proud of me now? I’m sure you’re right proud of yourself, ‘cause you clearly saw this coming from a mile away. I had this weird dream about him, and it was kinda distressing, but it’s not so bad when I’m awake, y’know. The dreams. And I think, with him here, I feel a lot better about myself._

“You are a good person, Jesse. Thank you for talking to me.”

_He’s a good person. Didn’t think he’d be all that great, ‘cause of how bad he hurt you. But, goin’ off what you told me about him ‘round a decade ago, I think he’s changed a lot from that person. He’s still got anger in him, but he’s managing himself better. Spec that’s a touch presumptuous to say, but it’s what I think. Can’t help it._

“Of course, Hanzo. I’d hate to make a bad first impression.”

_I think it was really hard for him. I mean, I’m glad he did it. He kissed me first, yeah? He kissed me first. He never struck me as the type to initiate, but I kept tellin’ myself that I don’t really like him. God, I know, it was awfully dense of me to think that. I mean, how could I not like him? It was obvious to you and to Angie. I don’t think I wanted to like him, though._

“You struck me as a filthy cowboy, but I suppose that was harsh of me, as you had just returned from a mission. Though I admit that I found you attractive from the start. Especially when you first smiled at me.”

That, of course, made McCree smile.

_I think I was scared. Kinda like he was, or maybe is. And I understand. It ain’t easy trustin’ people, and it ain’t easy likin’ people. If you like someone and you let ‘em know, well, that requires trust too, don’t you think? ‘Course, I trust you and the others plenty. Which is good. It’s a lot better than bein’ on the run. Alone. All by myself, with no one to turn to._

“You said you denied yourself, but I am not so sure. You made a move on me, did you not? I remember very clearly. You said that if you smelled like cherry blossoms, I would be all over you, to which I replied that cherry blossoms do not smell like anything.”

“Oh, darlin’, I know that,” McCree said with a laugh. “I’ve been to Japan. To Hanamura, y’know?”

“Have you?”

“Sure have. I was at Rikimaru and I stopped a robbery and everything. A bunch of news outlets made fun of my getup. ‘Anachronistic fashion sense’, my ass.”

Hanzo laughed and McCree felt like the skies had opened up above him.

“But, uh, yeah. I guess I _was_ kinda flirtin’ with you, wasn’t I? Sometimes that kinda stuff comes second nature to me, like bein’ friendly. You’re a handsome man, Hanzo Shimada. I could call you sweet names and think to myself that it wasn’t ‘cause I liked you, it was just ‘cause you look nice.”

Hanzo looked away, and McCree grinned at the sight of him blushing, actually blushing from the compliment.

“Y’know, you do look nice. You’re a damn fine-lookin’ man.”

“As are you,” Hanzo mumbled.

McCree pecked his forehead. Maybe too sweet a gesture, more sweet than he’d normally bother with. But he wanted to do it.

“Well, y’oughta be impressed. We went from yesterday’s heap of bullshit to... uh... this.”

“Yes,” Hanzo said, looking back up. “It is quite the change.”

“Thanks, darlin’. For bein’ honest with me.”

Hanzo nodded.

“I would like for us to be good to each other. And I could not bear to let Talon capture or harm you. I do not feel that it is right for Genji and myself to have kept so much from Overwatch, but after our last mission, I knew I would have to tell you the truth. You are kind to be so understanding of it.”

McCree sighed. “Shit happens,” he said. “I want you to keep tellin’ me the truth from now on, okay? I get why you couldn’t with Talon, and it does mean a lot that you’d fill me in even if it was after the mission, but... I’d be nice to be able to continue trusting you.”

“Of course, Jesse,” Hanzo replied. He looked and sounded dead serious.

“What about Genji?”

“He knows. We tell each other everything,” Hanzo said. The words were almost touching, but he delivered them with an air of distaste that forced McCree to bite back his laughter. “Talon has been our secret, and thus our bonding point, so to speak.”

“So... Gabriel?”

Hanzo gave McCree a meaningful look. “Genji cares for him deeply. I do not hate him,” he said. “I will not speculate on your opinion of him, though it is to my knowledge that he was your mentor many years ago.”

McCree rolled his eyes, huffed, “Yeah, he taught me a thing or two way back. ‘Course, Ana was the one who helped my aim. Technical shit, y’know. Alright, I mean, she also gave life lessons. But between the two of ‘em, I picked up a bunch of stuff. Reyes knows people. Psychological shit.”

“You seem agitated.”

“I guess a part of me doesn’t forgive him for what he did. When we were still Blackwatch. I had to leave, alright? The drama was... bad. Lord, it was bad. It was suffocatin’ and I had to get out of there. When Overwatch was startin’ to go down in flames, he never made it clear whether or not it’d be better for me to stick around or leave. I had to talk to people whom I used to think were perfectly fine, like they were venomous snakes. I had to play every card carefully, ‘cause I didn’t know who I could trust.”

McCree shook his head, rueful.

“It got to the point I realized I couldn’t even trust Gabriel. That’s when I packed my things and got the hell outta there.”

“It must have been difficult for you.”

McCree took a shaky breath, and nodded.

“Yeah, it was like my whole world was bein’ turned upside-down. But real slow. It took months for Overwatch and Blackwatch to really go to shit. Though, the Swiss HQ explosion crap happened a week or two after I left, and thank god for that.”

They were both quiet. McCree didn’t want to go into further detail about his escape from Overwatch, Blackwatch, the public eye. Hanzo didn’t ask. He seemed to understand that McCree didn’t really want to talk about it, at least not now. Or maybe he just wasn’t sure how to phrase his questions.

“Y’know, I’ve never really talked about this stuff with anyone. Never had the time or reason. Never really wanted to. Yet here I am, spillin’ this story like a leaky faucet.”

Hanzo’s lips were so inviting, but McCree forced himself to maintain eye contact.

“I like talkin’ to you, Hanzo. It ain’t just the trust thing or whatever, it’s easy to talk to you. And... it’s nice. I mean, I talk to the others enough. Genji’s always nice enough to listen. But it’s different with you. I... I want you to listen, and I want to tell you this stuff.”

“I am content to listen to you, Jesse. For you to trust me enough to talk to me means a great deal more than you could possibly know. Even if we have not known each other for very long.”

“Yeah, it’s only been a few days. But I’ll be honest, ‘cause of Genji, I feel like I’ve known you for years, in a way.”

Hanzo smirked, and it made McCree melt a little inside.

“I cannot say the same for how I feel about you, as I was not aware of your existence until recently. But while I am not one for trusting quickly nor one for forging quick bonds, you have been a notable exception.”

“So I’m guessin’ you don’t fuck on the first date?” McCree asked, fully expecting a punch to the face or at least to the arm.

But Hanzo only rolled his eyes, and McCree swore he was trying not to smile.

“Crass. How charming.”

“I’m _very_ charming.”

“I will not confirm nor deny your assumption, but you are free to assume all you like about that specific dating preference.”

McCree would’ve liked to give a smooth, seductive reply. All that came out was flustered stammering. He wasn’t sure if Hanzo was trying to imply that yes, he _did_ fuck on the first date, maybe. Or if he was just teasing. It could’ve been either, and McCree had to force himself to stop wondering before he popped a boner.

Now wasn’t the time. They’d just had a very deep and significant conversation - not to mention all the sweet kisses and touches.

Hanzo smiled, and McCree found that he was rendered speechless. Thankfully, Hanzo didn’t look as if he was expecting a reply anyway.

_Your brother’s a pretty nice person, y’know. Thanks for bringing him here. I didn’t think I’d like him this much, I really didn’t know I could feel this way for someone again. Not after my past, y’know. With romance and friendship and all kinds of relationships that ended up hurtin’ more than anything else. It’s not easy to put yourself in someone else’s hands like this. But Hanzo... he’s someone who seems to understand this kinda bullshit. I respect that. I respect him._

“We will be better to each other,” Hanzo said. “I will be better to you.”

“I... Thank you, darlin’. That ain’t an easy thing to promise, but... it means a lot. I appreciate it.”

_Your brother said a lotta meaningful things to me, Genji. He’s got a lot on his mind and on his plate, but he really, really wants to make things right. Even though I forgave him. Guess you can relate to this, ‘cause you forgave him, too. He just doesn’t forgive himself for his mistakes, which I gotta admit, I understand completely._

Hanzo pressed forward, wrapping McCree in a fierce hug.

“I promise,” he said. The words were quiet, but delivered with utmost conviction. “I would not make you a promise that I cannot keep, Jesse McCree. I promise I will do better for you. Because you deserve it, and you deserve the truth, and you are a _good_ man. You are a good person.”

McCree wrapped his arms around Hanzo, pulling him closer like he wanted to do earlier and couldn’t. But again, it was Hanzo initiating. And McCree didn’t mind, because he’d been so hesitant to touch him.

_I don’t know how, but he made me feel better. Not that I’ve been feelin’ terrible or anything. Just... not so hot, y’know. Not great. Maybe it’s ‘cause he understands what it’s like. Anxiety and insecurity and depression and trauma. And even though I didn’t think he liked me all that much, he does. And I like him back. If somebody as shy as him can admit it, I can admit it, too._

“Were you plannin’ to stay in here all night?” McCree asked as Hanzo pulled back from the embrace.

“I was not sure what to do. It seems I end up in here more often than not, and I do not have much to do to pass the time. I suppose I could stay in my own room, but Genji would pester me ceaselessly if I tried.”

“And the shootin’ range?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. McCree smiled, thinking it was adorable.

“Did I not tell you that I refuse to spend all of my time in the practice range? I train regularly, but that does not mean I need to waste even more of my life staring at targets.”

“Hey, it’s not like it’d _hurt_ your fantastic aim.”

Hanzo gave McCree’s cheek a patronizing pat.

“I’m sure we can find somethin’ else to do in between jobs, darlin’.”

“Hm.”

“Y’know, like... uh... readin’ a book, maybe? D’you like reading?”

“I do, but there is not much to read.”

“Hanzo, the number of ebooks and shit you can download is probably up in the millions.”

Hanzo tsked. “I prefer a paper copy,” he said.

McCree’s eyebrows raised as he gave a low whistle.

“Fancy.”

“It is not important. There are books in the facility, and I am sure I will spend much time with them sooner or later.”

“Why don’t you make friends with the other agents?”

“You know why.”

McCree laughed, replied, “Well if you like me, I’m sure you can get along with the others. If you try.”

“If you say so,” Hanzo said, in a manner that suggested he disagreed completely.

“While I’m at Deadlock, I want you to make some new friends.”

Hanzo punched McCree’s arm.

“You do not command me.”

“‘Course I don’t, but it’d be nice if you tried. More for your own benefit than anyone else’s. The others’ve tried to talk to you, haven’t they?”

“Yes. Some more than others.”

“And why don’t you let ‘em?”

“I have no interest in mundane conversation.”

“We’ve made plenty of mundane conversation.”

Hanzo looked down. “That’s different,” he said.

McCree tipped his chin up.

“Is it?” he asked.

“Yes,” Hanzo said. “You have been more willing to talk to me than the others, but you have not been particularly intrusive. All of them ask so many questions.”

“They’d just like to get to know you better, ‘s all.”

“Unnecessary.”

“It’s a good thing Genji likes hangin’ out with me. Wouldn’t have been able to get close to you otherwise.”

“You should be grateful that he is so tolerant of your presence. It led me to believe, correctly, that you are worth having around.”

McCree wasn’t sure if Hanzo’s smugness was on purpose or if it just came naturally to him. He would’ve liked to reply with something clever, but Hanzo bridged the gap between them with a warm kiss, and the words McCree was mentally lining up melted away.

“It’s late,” McCree said.

“It is only 11:30. You have not been here for long. Are you going to bed now?”

McCree was warm all over. “Nah, not yet. Maybe in another hour or so, if I can manage it,” he said.

“Then humour me.”

“How so, darlin’?”

“Tell me about yourself so I do not have to ask questions.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Talk to me about yourself.”

“I mean, I heard you, but uh... Shoot, I don’t even know where to start.”

Hanzo reclined on the chair. It was just a nice computer chair with wheels, but he made it look like a throne as he laced his fingers over his lap. He gave an expectant eyebrow raise, and McCree forced himself to speak because he was most certainly not tongue-tied, no sirree.

“My name’s Jesse McCree. I’m thirty-seven years old, and Sante Fe, New Mexico’s my place of origin. For a while, it was my base of ops. I was in the Blackwatch Gang for years. I think I joined ‘em when I was twelve, but that feels like two lifetimes ago.

Deadlock was harsh, but it was a place for me to belong. Sure as hell didn’t belong at home with my family. So they were like family to me. Everything went to shit when the Overwatch sting operation happened. Gabriel picked me up and I joined Blackwatch. Figured it’d be a better than prison. I like to think I made the right choice, ‘cause we tried to do good stuff with Blackwatch.”

McCree frowned, and his fingers rapped along his chair’s armrest. Hanzo recognized the gesture; he could tell McCree would’ve liked there to be a cigar in his hand. Or maybe a drink.

“Kinda already told you, a bunch of drama happened. I got out. Swiss HQ blew up. I kept myself hidden for years, then picked up some jobs. I mean, I was a mercenary, but I didn’t accept all the offers I got. Tried to keep it to just causes. Maybe not so just in the eyes of the law, but y’know, the law never liked me much.”

McCree continued, because Hanzo’s full attention was on him, so he figured that he wanted him to continue.

“Wasn’t long before I made a name for myself, and it wasn’t hard to find work, either. I was on the run, have been until the recall. I didn’t come back right away, mind you, but I got into contact with Genji. Figured that if he saw it fit to return, maybe it’d be a good choice for me, too. Thought it’d be a lot better than continuing the way I was, at least.

“When the recall happened, I was on a hypertrain. Talon was there, too. Wasn’t too much trouble to take care of ‘em. Spent a few more weeks in America, out east, before I got Genji’s text. No idea how he found my number, ‘cause I’ve been usin’ a new phone. Sure as fuck wouldn’t be caught dead with the phone I had a decade ago, and not the same number, either. But he found me, and I messaged Winston. We made some arrangements, and here I am.”

“Here you are.”

“Yup. That entertaining enough?”

Hanzo smiled. McCree was never going to get enough of that sight, and if rambling about his past could get that reaction from him, he’d talk about himself all day, everyday.

“I appreciate that you would tell me about your past, but I admit I was wondering more about your interests and hobbies.”

“Aw, c’mon, darlin’. You should’a specified.”

Hanzo waved him off. “You mentioned your family. What happened with them?” he asked.

McCree made a face, and muttered some choice curse words under his breath.

“Nothin’ happened between ‘em and I, per se. At least, there wasn’t some big scene that made me run away from home. But when one of your parents is an angry drunk and the other hits his kids, you probably wouldn’t wanna be home much, either. And my older siblings weren’t all that great.”

Hanzo blinked. “You have siblings?” he asked.

McCree almost laughed, because of course that would pique Hanzo’s interest. Then his expression sobered.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Did they leave too?”

“Uh... sorta.”

“You do not have to talk about it if it brings you discomfort, Jesse.”

McCree sucked in a breath of air.

“Well, they weren’t nice. But it wouldn’t’ve mattered if they were nice and we got along swimmingly - though we sure as hell didn’t. Y’see, Deadlock knew about my family. They had a lot of connections, and I suspect they put ‘em to use to find out more about me when I wanted to join.”

He would have to tell the truth, if he was going to expect Hanzo to be truthful with him too. It wasn’t that the subject brought him discomfort anymore. He’d been through too much for his very distant past to trouble him nowadays. It didn’t, not so much. Not like it used to. He had other worries and plights, like the loss of his arm, to bother him nightly.

“If there was anything my family did that helped me out in the long run, it was teachin’ me to shoot a gun. I was one of the best marksmen where I grew up, in the whole area, even as a kid. Spent so much time shootin’ it was ridiculous. Deadlock knew that, and they knew they could use that.”

Hanzo’s brows furrowed, and his look of extreme concentration might’ve fazed McCree had he not already known what he had to talk about. He looked Hanzo in the eye before continuing.

“They wanted to know I’d be a good fit for ‘em. I told them I’d do anything to prove myself, which was the exact thing they needed to hear to take a kid seriously. Even semi-seriously. I was twelve. They asked me to kill my family-” McCree shrugged, spread his arms in a grand gesture. “-So I did.”

Hanzo’s expression went from concentration to a cocktail of emotions McCree couldn’t quite pick apart. Maybe he was horrified, maybe he was impressed.

“Don’t go feelin’ bad for me, darlin’. I hate to say it, but in a lotta ways, they deserved to die. I guess my siblings didn’t, not really, but I didn’t exactly give ‘em the chance to prove themselves better people than the manner of how they treated me and each other and everyone else.”

Hanzo didn’t speak.

“Guess you could say I was a problem kid. And I won’t lie, even if they weren’t good people, killin’ ‘em all _is_ somethin’ that still haunts me. Just not as much as it did when I was a teen, ‘cause I’ve shot so many other people since then. All Deadlock did was get the ball rollin’,” McCree said with a bitter laugh.

“Anyway, I don’t like talkin’ ‘bout it much. ‘Course, Gabriel knew. Genji knows, ‘cause we’ve had plenty of time to talk about shit. Ana, Angela, and Fareeha know. But I haven’t really talked about it with anyone else.”

“I suppose you did not need to,” Hanzo said.

“Yeah,” McCree replied. “But I’m tellin’ you now, ‘cause you asked. Sorta. I... I think it’s somethin’ about me that you should know.”

“I understand. You already know what I did to Genji, and I am sure the event has altered your perception of me, as it should have.”

“Oh yeah, I know all about that, from Genji’s side. I had to get to know you before understanding why Genji forgave you, ‘cause I just didn’t see how it was possible. I would think that if my family survived, they sure as hell wouldn’t’ve forgiven me for tryin’ to off ‘em. ‘Course, they _didn’t_ survive. I do clean work, always have. Sorry if this was heavy.”

Hanzo took McCree’s hand in his.

“It means a lot to me that you trust me enough to tell me about this. About yourself.”

“Killin’ people ain’t one of my hobbies, though.”

“You can tell me about your hobbies another time. Thank you, Jesse, really. You have been so patient with me, more than I realized, I think. It is not a bad thing that I understand you better now. You look worried.”

“Can’t help it. Even if I’m tellin’ you of all people - no offence, darlin’ - I can’t help bein’ worried. People tend to think of people differently when they find out they singlehandedly killed their parents and siblings.”

“I of all people cannot judge you. Full offence to myself.”

McCree laughed, and Hanzo’s hand squeezed his.

“Should I be impressed that it did not require alcohol to loosen your tongue?”

“Oh I dunno about that, darlin’. I get chatty even when I’m not tipsy... but I guess I don’t usually spill that much. I mean...” McCree took a deep breath. “Reciprocity ain’t familiar to me.”

Hanzo reached a hand up to McCree’s head to smooth his hair down in one graceful swoop of his hand. McCree took Hanzo’s hand in his, and held it to his cheek, feeling the warmth in his calloused palm. Hanzo smiled just a bit before replying:

“Perhaps I can change that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \\\ to people who’ve read my other stuff you know that thing i do where i link fanart with every chapter/log? i’ve been slacking the fuck off on that so have [some mchanzo](http://nesy-art.tumblr.com/post/152567908067/some-old-mchanzo-sketches) [art that i ...](http://nesy-art.tumblr.com/post/151408679712/mccree-has-his-own-demons) [may or may](http://pinchahs.tumblr.com/post/153643756654/xotaro-bad-doodles) [not have linked](http://pinchahs.tumblr.com/post/153643760809/xotaro-everyone-liked-it-when-han-called-mcgoo) [in Lone Wolf Meets Coyote, but...](http://scatterarrow.tumblr.com/post/149323369032/why-dont-i-ever-finish-painting-anything) [it’s good, so](http://ikkanrana.tumblr.com/post/152833844857/happy-boys)


End file.
